Peppermint Bliss 2
by evitascarlett
Summary: A Reflections era Christmas story: It's Johanna and Jim's first Christmas as an official couple and she has a special holiday mission in mind for them. WinterFicathon2017
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I started this last year in anticipation of posting for Christmas, but, as they say, things went to hell in a handbasket in real life and I never got this finished until now. _This is set during the current timeframe of Reflections; Jim and Johanna are now engaged; and yes, there will be still be a Christmas themed chapter for the main story; this is just a bonus to their first holiday as a couple.__

 _For Cheryl, for talking me off the ledge._

Chapter 1- The Mission

Johanna was snuggled warmly against Jim's side as they watched television at her apartment that Friday night. Snow was falling outside the window and she was grateful when the heat clicked on and chased the chill of early December from the room. Her Christmas tree was up and decorated; a few other decorations scattered throughout her apartment. She still had shopping to do…holiday shopping always brought a special sort of stress as she tried to find the right gifts for everyone; but shopping wasn't on her mind that evening.

On her mind was the much more pleasant idea of holiday baking. Christmas was her favorite time of year to bake; it seemed as though there was a special holiday law that went into effect that decreed that there must be copious amounts of cookies, cakes and pies…and she loved it all. She had something specific in mind though; a recipe she had yet to narrow down to perfection…a stressful week at work had her anxious to reach for the mixing bowls and cake pans; but she'd need someone to help with the taste test. Johanna glanced up at her fiancé and smiled. It occurred to her that she couldn't help but smile anytime she thought the term 'fiancé'; it was still new…so very new, she mused as she glanced at the diamond ring resting on her left hand.

Johanna tore her gaze away from her ring, giving a slight shake of her head. Now wasn't the time to sink into daydreams concerning her newly minted engagement. This was the time for roping her future husband into a weekend long baking fest with her. She was pretty confident that she could accomplish the feat; after all, appeals that were made in regard to his stomach were rarely ever turned down…and if she needed to use certain feminine wiles to dash any reluctance, she was ready to do so.

"Jim," she said sweetly as she rubbed her hand against his chest.

"What?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously at the tone of her voice but he kept his arm wrapped around her.

"How do you feel about being a guinea pig?"

"It depends; what for?"

"Cake," she said with a smile. "I have some new recipes."

Jim grinned. "Take me, I'm yours."

"I knew I could count on you," Johanna said happily as she kissed him and then hugged him tightly.

"What kind of cake are you going to feed me?"

"Peppermint," she announced.

"I've never had peppermint cake," he replied. "To tell you the truth, I don't think I've ever even heard of it."

"I had it a couple times when I was a little girl and we'd go to my aunt Rita's around Christmas time. She always got the cakes at a bakery in her neighborhood. It was so good; I've always wanted to have it again."

"Where was this bakery at?"

"In Brooklyn."

"Why don't we just go to Brooklyn and find it?"

"We can't," Johanna answered. "I asked my aunt about it last year and she said the bakery went out of business years ago, that's why she stopped having those cakes."

"That figures."

"Yeah it does," she agreed. "So I've been scouring cook books and magazines and have several notebook pages full of recipes to try."

"Several?"

Johanna eyed him. "How else am I supposed to find the best one? Did you think I was only going to make one?"

"No, I figured maybe two…but I'm okay with more if that's what you want."

"That's what I want," she remarked. "That's why I need your help. I need you to help me taste them all."

Jim gave a nod. "I accept the mission."

"I hope it isn't too big of a sacrifice for you," she quipped.

"Not at all, sweetheart. I'm brave, make me eat cake; I dare you."

She laughed. "Testing begins tomorrow."

"I'm ready."

"We'll have to go to the market in the morning," she replied. "I only have a few cake mixes, I'll need more and I need other ingredients too."

Jim frowned. "I'm sure you can handle that on your own."

Johanna shook her head. "You accepted the mission; you go with me."

"But why?!"

"So you can drive and help me carry the bags."

""You can take my car; I don't mind."

"You can go with me; you won't mind," she replied.

"I'll mind."

"No you won't; it'll be fun," she told him.

"Grocery shopping is never fun…unless it's the type where I go open your fridge and find what I want and don't have to stand in line to pay for it."

Johanna dropped her hand to his thigh. "You're going with me."

"I'm not."

"You are…I'm sure you know that occasionally accompanying your wife to the market is a part of marriage."

He grinned. "We're not married yet."

"You need the practice," she quipped.

"What about you?" he asked. "Don't you need to practice?"

Johanna smiled. "Honey, I've been practicing since about a year after we met."

"How do you figure?"

"How many times did you eat here before we started dating?" she asked.

Jim thought about that for a moment. "Okay, you mastered that part."

"And I took care of you when you were sick."

"I took care of you too."

"Yes, but when I took care of you, I did your grocery shopping and cleaned your apartment."

"Okay; I'm going to concede to you on this one."

She patted his thigh and smiled. "See, you're already doing very well with your practicing."

He laughed. "I'm still not going to the market."

"You are," she said confidently.

"Nope."

"I'll make it worth it."

"You're going to make fried chicken?" he asked hopefully.

Johanna gave a short laugh. "I was going to give you me but if you'd rather have chicken…"

"Wait!" he exclaimed, tightening his arm around her. "Let's not be hasty…you tonight, chicken tomorrow."

"I'm not sure I want to fry chicken after baking all day."

Jim pulled his arm away. "So you're going to be the kind of wife who deprives her husband of his favorite meal?"

"Well as you mentioned, we're not married yet."

"Apparently I was wrong about the amount of practice you need."

She gave his shoulder a playful shove. "Fine, I'll make the damn chicken."

"And what about your other offering?"

"I guess I'll have to go through with it," she said dramatically. "After all, I wouldn't want it said that you were deprived."

Jim wrapped his arm around her once more. "Looks like we're both fast learners."

"Apparently so," she quipped before brushing a kiss to his lips. "Which is why you're going to the market with me tomorrow."

"Let's not discuss that now…you haven't made it worth it yet."

"Fine, I can go fry the chicken now if you want."

He smirked at her. "I don't believe that was the order specified…and don't you dare make me choose between two of my three favorite things."

She laughed. "Alright, have it your way…and you're still going."

"We'll see," he remarked.

"I guess we will," she said sassily. "You should know better than to underestimate me."

"And you should know better than to underestimate me."

"Sounds like a battle of wills," Johanna replied. "But you'd think given that it's the holiday season that you could just go along peacefully…you know, peace on earth…it's a big message this time of the year."

Jim nodded. "That's right," he said as he rose from the sofa and tugged her along with him. "But you forgot about the part about 'goodwill toward men' so let's go get you started on that."

Johanna gave a soft laugh as she followed behind him. "Somehow I knew that was going to backfire."

"And yet you did it anyway; more good skills you're practicing, sweetheart. I'm so proud."

"One can only hope that I'll have that feeling sometime in the future."

Jim smiled as they stepped across the threshold of her bedroom. "I assure you, you'll have plenty of pride by the time the sun comes up…consider it an early Christmas gift."

"Let's make it a mutual gift," she replied as she slipped her arm around him and hooked a finger beneath his chin, encouraging him to lower his lips to hers. "It's just too bad we don't have any mistletoe."

"We don't need it," he said with a grin as he backed her towards the bed. "We do just fine without it."

"I can't argue with that," Johanna laughed before he caught her lips in a searing kiss, putting an end to their conversation for the time being.

* * *

Later on, Johanna's fingers danced across Jim's bar chest, her gaze on his face, waiting for that moment where he'd be awake but rapidly slipping into slumber…she found that he was more agreeable about things during those moments. She smiled a little, seeing that the moment had come and she brushed a soft kiss against his collar bone. "Jim," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"You're going to stick to your deal right?" she asked.

"Deal?" he said sleepily.

"Mhmm; you're going to go to the market with me in the morning?"

"Market?"

"Yeah; to get the stuff to bake cakes; remember, you said if I made it worth it, you'd go with me…I made it worth it, didn't I?" Johanna asked; her tone low and seductive as she brushed her lips against his.

A sleepy grin curved his lips upwards as he cuddled her closer. "So worth it, sweetheart," he mumbled.

"Good; so you're going with me?"

"Uh huh."

"Wonderful," she said softly; a victorious smile of her face.

A look of concentration seemed to crinkle his brow. "Wait, what?" he asked; trying to make his heavy eyelids open and failing miserably.

"Shhh," Johanna whispered. "I'll tell you all about it in the car in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered. "Love you."

"I love you too, honey," she said, settling down in the circle of his embrace, her hand giving his arm a soft pat. "You're going to be such a good husband."

He smiled as sleep fully claimed him and Johanna wrapped her arm around him tightly. She didn't have to be as worried as she sometimes was about her skills as a future wife…she had this under control…at least she thought she did. She gave a soft shake of her head; there was no need to think like that; she knew how to get what she wanted when she needed it; Jim would go along in the morning without complaint…or at least she hoped so.

Johanna closed her eyes but sleep didn't seem to be on the agenda for her at the moment and she frowned in the darkness. Her mind was in a whirlwind lately; between the surprise of their engagement, her caseload and the recent stress of Jim finally meeting her father barely a week before, and usual impending holiday stress, she was finding it hard to settle down at times. She kept bouncing from every extreme, excitement, worry, stress, and back to immense happiness. She glanced at her sleeping fiancé, it was their first Christmas as a couple; she wanted it to be special…she wanted them to create something that could be woven into a tradition that they could carry through the years; something that would be a part of the family they'd create together. Her craving for the peppermint cake from her childhood and the sweet reminder of when Jim had given her a bouquet of candy canes the first Christmas they had known each other made her determined that finding the perfect peppermint cake recipe would be the special moment she was looking for. With that thought in mind, she carefully slipped away from Jim and found her nightgown and robe on the floor. She pulled them on and quietly left the room, figuring that since insomnia was clearly going to be her friend, she may as well go through the recipes and make her shopping list. Perhaps being organized would make the trip less daunting for her fiancé...but a small voice in the back of her mind whispered "I doubt it."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!_

Chapter 2- The Shopping Excursion

"I can't believe you dragged me here," Jim complained as Johanna got a shopping cart at the market the next morning.

"Honey; you agreed to the deal last night so it really shouldn't be a surprise."

"What deal?"

She smiled. "That if I made it worth it you'd go to the market with me…and I didn't hear any complaints last night…in fact I clearly recall you saying it was so worth it."

"Why don't I remember this conversation?"

"I don't know," Johanna said with a shrug; "But I'm not lying; you did agree…you're just trying to weasel out with a selective memory."

"No, I'm trying to weasel out because I hate this stuff."

"It's a grocery store, not an execution," she replied as she sat her purse in the child seat, keeping the strap against the handle so that it was still in her grasp.

"It's hard to tell the difference," Jim muttered.

"Oh stop," she replied. "You should love it here; it's wall to wall food."

"Yeah; but I can't eat it until I pay for it…I also can't eat some of it until it's cooked."

"And this is the reason for your aversion to grocery stores?"

"No; my aversion is to the crowds, the lines, the actual shopping and the inevitable case of a person with five screaming kids who you run into in every aisle."

Johanna shook her head at him. "You need to get over that; grocery shopping is a part of life. Everyone has to do it."

"Not everyone," he quipped. "Husbands don't; that's one of the reasons I'm getting married."

She arched a brow at him. "It is?"

Jim nodded. "My wife is supposed to take care of me…that means she does the shopping and the cooking."

"Uh huh; and here I thought the husband was supposed to take care of the wife."

"Well yeah but the husband's care taking duties are different than the wife's."

"Why do I have a feeling that wives have more duties than husbands?"

"Because that's the way of nature," Jim replied. "Women are nesters."

That sentiment sounded familiar, Johanna thought to herself; and she was pretty sure she knew where she had heard it before. "Wisdom from Robert Beckett?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just a hunch."

"Well it's true; women like to nest."

"We probably shouldn't get into that discussion," Johanna replied as she stopped by a display of candy canes and began picking up a few boxes. "Or we won't be having an enjoyable weekend."

"The subject is closed," he agreed. "Do you think you have enough candy canes?" he asked as he counted six boxes in the cart.

"I need some of them for the cakes," she remarked. "I also plan to tape one on at least one gift for each of the kids; we have five in total, you know."

"You make it sound like they're ours."

"They are ours, our nephews and nieces…at least they'll be jointly ours when we get married."

"Go ahead and claim my four, I don't care," he replied. "But still, isn't there going to be a lot left over?"

"I'll eat them," she said firmly.

He grinned. "You have to get all that peppermint bliss, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she replied as she pushed the cart forward. "And I haven't forgotten your past history as a candy cane murderer."

Jim chuckled as his hand fell to the small of her back. "I wanted to kiss you that day in the break room."

Johanna glanced at him, a coy smile on her lips. "I wanted you to kiss me too…but then Jeff came in."

"Someone should give him the gift of timing for Christmas."

"But that might ruin part of his charm."

"I'm willing to risk it," he replied as he followed her into the baking aisle. "What are we looking for? You said you needed more cake mixes, right?"

"Yeah; I need stuff for more mixes."

"Here's cake mixes," Jim said as he picked up a box of Betty Crocker cake mix.

Johanna gave him a look of horror. "I don't use boxed mixes," she exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't and neither does my mother or grandmother. We make our own."

"Just because they do doesn't mean you have to."

"It's better that way."

"I highly doubt there's any difference," Jim remarked. "You're just clinging to that because of your mother and grandmother. If they jumped off a bridge, would you?"

"No, but if you're standing there with a boxed cake mix, I might push you off," she retorted.

"There is nothing wrong with boxed cake mixes."

"They don't taste as good as homemade; that's why my mother's cakes have bakery like quality…boxed mixes do not."

"There's no difference."

"Maybe to the untrained," she remarked. "But I know the difference."

"Jo; you're really going to buy the ingredients to make individual cake mixes, which would cost you more than a couple boxes of 69 cent cake mix?"

"Yes; that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"That's crazy!"

"It is not!"

"It is too; why would you spend more money than you have to?"

"Because I believe in quality," Johanna replied as she began to gather ingredients.

"I believe in saving money and time," Jim remarked. "You're going to make your own mixes for who knows how many cakes; some of which you might not even like which will be money down the drain; not to mention the extra time it's going to take."

"It doesn't take long to make a cake mix," she told him as she continued to put items in the cart.

"It takes even less time and money to open a box and pour it into a bowl."

"I know what I'm doing," she said tartly. "I'm not buying boxed cake mixes."

"I suggest that you get used to them," he replied. "When we get married, I'm not putting out extra money for something that will do the same job as this boxed version for 69 cents just because you're a cake snob."

Johanna turned to face him, her eyes narrowed and her hand on her hip. "Now wait just a damn minute; if you think for one second that when we get married that you're going to tell me what to do with my money, you better just back up your little wagon buddy boy, because that isn't going to happen. I have a well paying job just like you; half of my check will go toward our expenses, a portion to savings and the rest is mine to do with what I please, just like a portion of your money is yours to do with what you please."

Jim held her gaze. "We haven't even been engaged for a month and you've already worked out our finances?"

"My portion of them," she remarked. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No; I just thought maybe you'd wait until the ring had been on your finger long enough to leave a dent."

"No, you just thought I was going to hand you my check book and bank book when we got married and submit to your will about how to spend my money. My savings accounts are mine, and your savings accounts are yours. I am open to having a joint savings account, as I assume we'll have a joint checking account; but even so, the accounts I have now are mine and will stay mine; my father's name is on those accounts with mine with the exception of one and my checking account."

"Why the hell would you have your father's name on your savings accounts?" he asked.

"Well for starters, one of those accounts is the one he opened for me when I was an infant; two, in case of some emergency, and three for security."

"Security?" he laughed. "He's the one who wanted to bully you out of the things your grandfather left you."

"Yes, and that money went into the account his name isn't on, not that I believe for a moment that he'd ever go take something out of my account. He doesn't even know what's in them. I'm the only person who gets statements and I know exactly how much I have, nothing has ever gone missing. My father might be a lot of things but he isn't a thief and his name isn't coming off my accounts," she said firmly as she turned to the shelf to gather a few items.

"Isn't it going to look strange when you're married that your father's name is on your accounts and not your husband's? People might think you don't trust me."

"I trust you; I know you'd never take from me…but as a woman who knows how this world works, I want to know that I have my own money that's separate from my husband's should I ever need it."

Jim thought about that for a moment. "Is this stemming from those few divorce cases you've handled?"

"No; it's called being a smart woman. It's nothing against you, I'm completely willing to disclose to you everything I have and if we needed that money for something important or in an emergency, then of course we'd use it without any hesitation on my part…but I won't sign it over to you just because you think that's what wives should do."

"Husbands usually handle the finances."

"I didn't say you couldn't write out the checks; go ahead. I said I'm keeping my savings accounts…is that really going to be an issue between us? I'm not asking you to merge your accounts with mine, nor would I ask you to put my name on them. That's money you had before you met me, that's yours."

The squeak of a cart coming down the aisle kept Jim from replying. "Maybe this isn't the place for this discussion," he told her.

"Probably not…but I really didn't think you'd take offense to me keeping something that was mine since before we met. Like I said, its security, not something against you, not some cloud of doubt…just a security blanket."

He nodded; he supposed that did make sense, and after all, a woman had the right to have her own money separate from the marital accounts. She wasn't saying that he would rob her; she just wanted to have a safety net to fall back on if things for some unthinkable reason shouldn't work out between them…and besides, one day when they were good and settled she might change her mind and have him put on her accounts in case of emergency. There wasn't any reason to harp about it. "You're right, you're entitled to a feeling of security and if you want to keep your father's name on there, then I won't ask you to remove it."

Johanna gave a slight nod of her own. "And you won't tell me how to buy groceries; other than telling me what you specifically want if there's a brand you prefer."

"I didn't say that!" Jim exclaimed.

"You better say it," she replied. "You said grocery shopping is the wife's duty, therefore I decide what to buy, keeping your preferences in mind."

"It better be 69 cent cake mixes."

Johanna glared at him as she jerked the box from his hand. "I'm going to buy one of your sucky cake mixes to prove a point about homemade being better and I'm going to make you a deal; when we get married, you pay the rent and I'll buy the groceries with my money."

"Fine; the way you shop I'll be paying less for rent than you will be for groceries."

Johanna sighed. "Go home, I'll do this alone."

"Hey; I told you not to bring me in the first place."

"Believe me, I wish I hadn't," she replied as she pushed the cart further up the aisle and selected more items. "And there will be no chicken tonight."

"Why not!"

"Because you made me mad and ruined my shopping experience and we haven't even been here fifteen minutes!"

"I thought your shopping experience was had at Macy's…I didn't realize you had one at the grocery store too."

"Jim, I'm warning you…don't think for a minute that I won't buy you less gifts for Christmas because I will."

"I'm not afraid," he said as he watched her selecting vanilla extract. "You love me too much to only buy me one gift."

"Don't push your luck on that."

"Why are you buying peppermint extract? I thought you were using candy canes."

Johanna fought the urge to smack her head off the shelf. "The candy canes are for topping the icing…not the inside of the cakes that require peppermint in the mix."

"Why can't you just crunch up candy canes and throw them in the batter?" he asked.

"Jim; I don't tell you how to fix a car; don't tell me how to bake a cake."

"Just seems like common sense," he replied.

"And just how many cakes have you baked?"

"None."

"That's what I thought."

"But I've watched my mother bake cakes…with boxed mixes I might add."

Johanna gave a short laugh. "I'm so not surprised that she goes the boxed route."

"Cake snob."

"If I'm such a snob then you should probably drop out of my cake baking experiment. I wouldn't want anything homemade to taint your Betty Crocker ready mix taste buds."

Jim bit back a laugh and was about to reply but stopped short as he heard caroling in the store. "What the hell is that?" he asked.

"They have carolers come in on the weekends to entertain the shoppers during the holidays…you'd know this if you shopped more."

"Oh my God," he exclaimed; "As if going to the market isn't bad enough, they have to throw in carolers. Why the hell would they do that?"

"Oh I don't know," she said tartly. "Maybe to cheer up you bunch of bah humbugs who are going around ruining people's shopping experiences."

"I told you not to bring me."

Johanna dropped her items into the cart and took hold of the lapels of his coat. "Listen; the magazine aisle is two aisles down; they have magazines about sports and cars down there; why don't you go there and join the collection of other men and read a few. I'll pick you up when I'm finished…and if you stay there and be a good boy; then when we're ready to leave, I'll give you a dime for the bubble gum machine like I do when Greg is with me; okay?" she said sweetly.

Jim smiled. "Okay."

As she watched him walk away, she realized that she had fallen right into his trap…he wanted to be sent away so he didn't have to follow her around the market. "Damn it," she muttered.

"Rookie mistake," an elderly woman said with a laugh as she paused near Johanna. "He didn't want to come, did he?"

"No; he didn't."

"You sent him to the magazine aisle to wait."

"Sure did."

The old woman patted her arm. "Don't worry dear, you'll learn…and don't worry, he won't be lonely, I dropped my husband off there a few minutes ago. Harold loves to make new friends in the magazine aisle."

Johanna couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe they can complain about us together."

"Perhaps so," the woman replied, the twinkle of amusement in her eyes lighting up her face. "And in the meantime, we'll have the peace of doing our shopping…and just so you know; you're right to make your own cake mixes, they are best."

"Thank you," Johanna said with an appreciative nod. "I didn't think my mother and grandmother were wrong."

"Not at all," the lady agreed, giving her arm another pat. "You enjoy your holiday baking and have a Merry Christmas."

"You too," she replied with a warm smile. "Don't let Harold give you too much trouble."

"Oh I won't, dear; one shake of the rolling pin in his direction and he falls in line."

She laughed. "I'll have to remember that."

The women shared a laugh and then went their separate ways. As she passed by the magazine aisle, she saw Jim with a magazine in hand, engaged in conversation with an elderly man; she had a feeling he had met Harold.

* * *

When Johanna finished collecting what she needed for baking along with a few other staples, she returned to the magazine aisle to collect her fiancé. "Where's Harold?" she asked as she approached him.

"How did you know that there was a man named Harold here?"

"I met his wife in the baking aisle."

Jim threw his magazine in the cart as Johanna made a few selections. "His wife came and got him…he said that's how marriage is."

She gave a nod. "Remind me to ask my mother where she leaves Dad when he goes with her."

"He's probably smart and stays home."

"Not all the time," she replied. "I'm ready to head to the check out; are you?"

"Please, I was ready as soon as we got here."

Johanna rolled her eyes and pushed the cart to the shortest check out line she could find, not paying any attention as Jim muttered under his breath about the ten minute wait. As they were leaving the store, he caught hold of her sleeve. "Hey; I was good and stayed in the magazine aisle."

"What's your point?"

"You said you'd give me a dime for the bubble gum machine," Jim said with a grin.

"Really? I was being sarcastic."

"Too bad; pay up…or I might have a tantrum."

She dug in her purse for a dime and handed it to him. "You know which slot to stick that in, right?" she asked.

Jim laughed. "I sense sarcasm…and I'm pretty sure you're not talking about the slot on the machine."

Johanna smiled. "Well, give you a gold star and make you the head elf in the Christmas play."

"I'm too tall to be an elf," he replied as he put his dime in the machine.

"Fine be a reindeer…I have red lipstick I can color your nose with if you want to be Rudolph."

"Now, sweetheart," he said as he opened up his prize and found a temporary tattoo; "If you keep talking like that you're going to end up on the naughty list."

"Rumor has it that you're already on it."

"That's a vicious rumor started by my mother. Give me another dime; I was aiming for the keychain."

"No! It's cold, let's go."

"And you said I was a bah humbug!" Jim exclaimed as he dug a dime from his pocket.

"Bite me."

"Maybe later; first we have to make cake," he told her. "I accepted the mission."

Johanna sighed. "I give up; you're incorrigible and there's no hope for rehabilitation."

He grinned as he grabbed his prize from the machine and wrapped an arm around her. "You wouldn't want me any other way…I might even stick a bow on my forehead for you and sit by your tree on Christmas as one of your gifts."

She laughed. "I'll make sure to buy film for my camera so I can take pictures of that."

"You'll be too busy unwrapping me for pictures," he teased.

"Put the bags in the trunk, James. We'll discuss unwrapping later," Johanna replied.

"Oh good; that means you're still inclined to be friendly towards me," Jim said with an exaggerated leer. "You're either trying to stay on the nice list or you want that tattoo I got out of the bubble gum machine…and if so, I get to pick where it goes…I've got a few ideas for locations," he said with a grin.

"Uh huh," she retorted, side eyeing him as he opened the trunk. "I've got a few ideas where _you_ can put it."

"I have a feeling my ideas are more fun," Jim remarked.

"For who?"

He grinned. "Both of us."

"Mhmm; well today we're doing what I want to do."

"Don't we always do that?" he asked.

Johanna sat a bag down in the trunk and turned to face him, a hand on her hip. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

He fumbled the bag he was lowering into the trunk but quickly recovered his grip. "What?" he asked; hoping he could brush that conversation off and keep the morning from crashing and burning.

Johanna's brow rose. "Don't give me that; you were implying that we only do what I want to do…and I'd like you to elaborate on that charge if you don't mind."

"Well, um…I don't know; aren't most things we do things you want to do?"

"I was under the impression that they were mutual things…you know, since you make most of the plans."

He smiled. "But I make the plans with your likes in mind."

"Really?" she asked; "Is that why we were at a science fiction movie Wednesday night? Because I'm pretty sure I hate that stuff."

"You didn't say anything about it when I brought it up."

"I know."

"Well why you didn't you say you didn't want to go? I know you don't like those types of movies but if you don't put up a fuss about it I figure you don't mind as much as you put on," Jim remarked.

"Oh I mind, I just go anyway because you like those movies and I can sit through it with you because I love you. I try to be supportive of the things you like that I don't…I do let you watch football on my television when you're at my place…and believe me, despite being a cheerleader, I just don't see the appeal of the game."

"I don't know how a former cheerleader can really say that…I just don't understand it at all."

"I know, honey; just like I don't understand why that game takes so damn long. Football is really just a twenty minute game stretched out over four hours."

Jim shook his head. "They shouldn't have given you a cheerleading uniform; it's like you were a fraud cheerleader."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That wasn't what you were saying when I modeled that uniform for you…and besides; I told you; I was a cheerleader because I like the idea of cheering, of being a part of something…and I wanted to look cute in the uniform."

"You're adorable in it," he said with a smile. "Do you want to put it on again?"

"After you said I was a fraud; hell no."

"Fine, be that way; so much for goodwill toward men."

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Where's the goodwill for women?"

"It's right here helping you load the bags into the car," Jim remarked; "And it'll be helping you carry them to the door and into the kitchen. If you need more examples of my goodwill toward women, we'll need to put the baking on hold and move into a different area of the apartment."

Johanna sat the last bag in the trunk. "I think I can do without the full tour of goodwill for now."

"You know where to find me if you change your mind…and I'll still give you that tattoo for taking my tour."

She laughed. "You just want me to forget that you said we only do what I want to do."

Jim nodded. "Yes I do…I want that very much because clearly I wasn't of sound mind when I made that comment."

"Going with the insanity plea, huh?"

"Pretty much," he said as he handed her the keys. "You go ahead and get in the car so you don't get any colder; I'll take the cart back."

"How gallant," she quipped as she took the keys.

"It's just another thing I'm good at," he told her with a grin.

Johanna smirked at him. "Yeah; your list of good points just grows and grows; pretty soon you'll be so good I won't know how to stand it."

"I'll try to dole it out in moderation, sweetheart…and I hope that smile means we'll be back to the idea of discussing unwrapping sometime later today."

Her smile turned sassy. "We'll see…but cake first."

"Of course," he said with a dramatic sigh as he began to put the cart away.

Johanna laughed as she unlocked the passenger side door and got into the car. It might not exactly be the weekend he would've chosen; but she hoped he'd enjoy the time spent with her just the same; after all, it was a memory she was trying to create for them…something to look back on and smile at years down the road when they were married. She breathed deeply; that warm tingly feeling spreading through her; she couldn't wait to be his wife…even if he did make fun of her cake mixes and call her a cheerleading fraud…which he would pay for at some later date; but she still couldn't wait none the less.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- The Mission Begins

When they got back to Johanna's apartment, she changed into jeans and a t-shirt and put away the groceries that weren't needed and organized her baking supplies. She pulled her bags of ready made cake mix from the cupboard, ignoring Jim's smirk as she did so.

"I thought you were going to use that box of so called 'sucky' cake mix to teach me a lesson," he remarked.

"Oh believe me, I will," she replied as she pulled out mixing bowls and cake pans.

"Do you have enough cake pans?" Jim asked as he counted four round pans and two standard rectangular cake pans. "You only have one oven."

"I know that, smart ass," Johanna replied. "But it's called being organized and staying on task. While one cake is baking, another can be made and already poured into the pan, ready to go in the oven when the other is finished and for the record; if I have two recipes for a cake to be put in at the same temperature, I can squeeze two in the oven at a time. Now let's get started."

"Can't we have lunch first?"

"We just had breakfast two hours ago!"

"I know," he replied. "My stomach sent out a reminder."

"It's not even noon, Jim."

"Okay, let's have brunch."

"If you want brunch you'll have to fix yourself something; I want to get started on these cakes."

"Fine," he said as he went to the fridge and took out a loaf of bread.

Johanna washed her hands, turned on the oven so it could pre-heat and opened a bag of cake mix, getting ready to pour it into a mixing bowl when she saw Jim taking a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. "Not my peanut butter!" she exclaimed. "I need those two jars in there for my Christmas cookies and fudge."

"You have two jars and I can't have any?" he asked.

"I just told you, I need them for my holiday baking. The fudge requires a full jar and depending on how many cookies I decide to make, they may need a full jar as well. Now if you want to go back to the store and buy me more peanut butter, you can have some."

Jim grimaced at the thought. "Do you have lunch meat?"

"Yes."

"I'll just have a lunch meat sandwich then."

"Good choice."

"Peanut butter cookies aren't Christmas cookies, you know," he said as he rummaged in the fridge.

"Oh?" she said, her brow arched as she regarded him. "Please enlighten me to what constitutes official Christmas cookies."

"Gingerbread, of course; and those ones you have to use cookie cutters for…you know; the ones shaped like bells and trees and stars, those sorts of things."

"Uh huh; but those aren't the only cookies people make for Christmas."

"It's all my mother makes the week of Christmas."

"Well it might be all Elizabeth Beckett makes but my mother makes chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar cookies, gingerbread, and anything else she feels like. My grandmother always brings biscotti."

"What's biscotti?" Jim asked.

"It's an Italian cookie," she answered as she went to a drawer to take out her recipes.

"What are those like?"

Johanna explained to him what biscotti looked like and tasted like, it's various variations and baking procedures. "It's very good," she told him when she finished. "It's not Christmas without Grandma's biscotti; even Dad looks forward to it. Mom always says how surprised she was that he liked it."

"I think I'll stick to American cookies," he replied.

"Cookie snob," she taunted. "You may as well prepare yourself to try it one day; when we're married and visit my family on the holidays, Grandma would be highly offended if you didn't try her biscotti…and you don't want to see her when she's offended, it's not pretty."

"In that case, I'll be delighted to try it…but who said we'd be going to your family on the holidays. What about mine?"

Johanna glanced at him. "I didn't say we wouldn't be seeing your family."

"You didn't say we would be."

"I assumed it would be obvious. It's not like we have to travel out of town; we'll see both on holidays."

"And let me guess who we'll see first," Jim said as she grabbed some eggs.

Johanna sighed. "Honey; you've got this idea in mind that I'm going to be some kind of demanding, overbearing wife like your mother and it's not true…and if you really thought it was, you wouldn't have proposed. When we get married, on Christmas we'll go see your family first; we'll go there for the morning and early afternoon, and then go to my mother's for late afternoon and evening; okay? And then the next year, we'll flip it so it's not the same every year."

Jim smiled, ignoring the sandwich he had constructed. "You'd do that? You'd really go to my mother's first?"

"Of course, honey," she said as she stepped closer to embrace him. "We just divide the day between the two families and the problem is solved; and like I said, we trade off the order every year…sound good?"

He thought about it for a second and then nodded. "Yeah; that sounds good."

Johanna smiled; she'd just ensured that her first Christmas as a wife would be spent at her mother's dinner table and not her mother-in-law's…and she hadn't even planned it. This must be what a true Christmas miracle was, she thought to herself as she kissed her fiancé. "See, I'm not so unreasonable, am I?" she said warmly.

"No," he said fondly. "You're not unreasonable; I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I should've known you'd include both families."

She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "It's alright; I understand; but look at us; we're already doing a good job at compromising, we're going to do so well with this marriage thing."

Jim laughed and stole a kiss. "You're right, we've got this."

"Definitely; we have nothing to worry about."

He kissed her once again, allowing it to linger and turn passionate. "You know," he murmured as he kept her held tightly against him; "I could put that sandwich back in the fridge for awhile."

"That's tempting," she remarked as she caressed his face and skimmed her lips against his; "But we have to bake cakes…you accepted the mission."

He sighed and gave her a pat on her backside. "Alright, let's bake cakes…how many are there, just out of curiosity…because I can hold a thought for awhile…in case you were wondering."

Johanna laughed. "I know all about how long you can hold a thought. As for the cakes…there are seven."

"Seven!" he exclaimed. "Are you crazy?"

"Well how many did you think there'd be? I said several."

"I thought that meant about three," Jim replied.

"If it was three, I would've said 'a few'," she remarked. "It won't be so bad; you'll see."

"Jo; what the hell are you going to do with all of those cakes? Especially if you don't like them?"

"I'm sure we know some people with bad taste who would like to take one…didn't you say Andrew was a glutton? Pawn one off on him."

"He is like a human garbage disposal," he remarked. "I'm sure we wouldn't have any problem having him come collect one."

"Good; and I'm sure my brother would take one; he's open to eating any type of cake, even if it isn't up to everyone else's standards."

"What about the others?"

Johanna thought about it for a moment. "Any that are deemed extremely bad go in the trash; the rest that are just a simple matter of not being to our taste gets pawned off on whoever will take them."

"Deal; let's get this show on the road…we want to be done before Christmas."

"Stop being a Grinch," she told him. "Why are you so cranky today?"

"I'm not cranky."

"Well you don't have any holiday spirit it seems."

Jim shrugged as he took his sandwich to the table. "I just don't understand the frenzy you women seem to work yourselves into when it comes to the holidays. There's holiday cleaning, holiday baking, holiday shopping, holiday decorating…you all get a little…"

"A little what?"

"Crazed."

"I don't think I'm being crazed," Johanna remarked as she began mixing in ingredients to her cake mix. "Do you?"

"Well you are making seven cakes…and you might hate all of them."

"That's not being crazy; that's being dedicated to finding something you've been craving since you were a child."

"I stand corrected."

"As always."

"Thinking like a wife already," Jim quipped. "My father always says that wives always think they're right."

"Is there any proof that wives are wrong in that manner of speaking?" she asked.

"I can't provide on the spot examples but we both know there are times when wives are wrong."

"Once in awhile there's a bad day," Johanna replied; "But they're not wrong nearly as much as husbands are."

"In your unbiased opinion?" he asked with a grin.

"Of course."

"So what exactly is my role in this cake baking process?"

She smiled. "Well, you can be my special helper and hand me things when I ask for them…like you can be in charge of getting the eggs when I need them."

"This seems like a task you'd assign to someone Angie's age…in fact, I could probably get her over here if you'd rather have her as your special helper in the baking of these cakes."

"I adore Angie but I'd much rather have you today," she quipped. "You never know; I might make it worth it for you."

"You said that about grocery shopping...and I'm not sure you upheld your end of that deal."

"That's not what you were saying last night," Johanna remarked.

"Yeah but that was before you actually had me in the market…the euphoria had dimmed by then."

"I don't know whether to be offended by that or not," she quipped. "Does this mean I'm losing my appeal already?"

"Not at all, sweetheart; I mean I did just offer to put my sandwich away to spend some quality time with you."

"Mhmm," she said as she picked up a spoon and mixed the batter.

"There hasn't ever been a day when you haven't been appealing," he went on; "Even when I'm mad at you I want you so badly that I can't stand it."

Johanna laughed. "That's funny, when I'm mad at you; it's the last thing on my mind."

"That's because women like to view withholding certain affections as punishment. For me, I view it as not only an "I'm sorry" gesture but as a way of easing the tension and reaching a happy resolution."

"You've given the matter considerable thought, I see."

"Well I've had to…when you get mad, you seem to stay mad for a day or two. I have nothing to do but think."

She tossed him a sassy grin as she poured the batter into the first cake pan. "Yeah; I can just imagine how some of those thoughts go…I'm sure not all of them are nice."

"No comment," he said with a grin. "That's going to be an awful small cake, isn't it?"

"Since we're only testing; I'm only doing single layers for the ones I'm using the round cake pans for," Johanna explained. "That way it's less of a waste. Now if one of these would be a recipe we like; then I'll make a two layer one."

"Okay; you're the boss," Jim said as he finished off his sandwich.

She grinned. "You remember that."

"Oh I'm not worried that you'll let me forget," he teased. "Do I get to lick the spoon? That was the one thing my mother always allowed when she'd bake a cake…although we did have to fight each other for the privilege."

Johanna shook her head at him as she held out the spoon. "Go ahead; no fight required…but the next one is mine."

"Deal," he said as he took it from her hand.

Johanna sorted through her recipes and found another cake that needed the same amount of time and temperature in the oven. "I'm going to go ahead and bake two at the same time," she stated; reaching for another round cake pan.

"You won't get them mixed up?"

She shook her head. "No; I'll be able to keep it straight."

"Where did you find all of these recipes?"

"I told you; I've been pulling them from magazines and some I found in cookbooks. I just hope we stumble across the right one."

"I guess time will tell," he replied; although he privately thought it was probably going to be a lost cause. For all they knew, the cake she had tasted when she was a little girl was probably a family recipe that the bakery had used and no one else was privy too. He almost mentioned that possibility but then he studied her as she began the process of adding ingredients to a clean mixing bowl; taking note of how easily she measured; barely taking a second glance; how sure she was of herself as she added each item; the way she poured energy into stirring the batter. He began to wonder if the mission was some way of releasing some sort of pent up stress that had yet to be worked off. Her case load had lightened, but she still had a few sticky cases in her way that wouldn't wrap up until right before Christmas. They were fresh off his first meeting with Frank…and he knew all too well that it had twisted her into knots. It was their first holiday as a confirmed couple…more to the point, an engaged couple. They were packing a lot of milestones into just a few months.

With that thought in mind, he decided it would be best to stay quiet for now; if the first few cakes failed then surely she'd give it up and they could find something else to do with their weekend. It wouldn't take long; she'd grow tired of the quest…at least he hoped she would…there were so many other things to do that would be more entertaining to him. It wasn't that he didn't like being included in her endeavors…and he didn't mind tasting the cakes…he just didn't see himself lasting through the actual baking process.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!_

Chapter 4- The First Taste Test

After two cakes were finished baking, properly cooled and iced, Johanna cut into them and laid a slice of each on plates for her and Jim. "Are you ready for our first taste test?" she asked.

"I'm ready," he replied as he picked up his fork. "Which one do you want to start with?"

"This one," she said, pointing to the slice of cake that was decorated with a pale pink frosting.

"The girly cake," Jim remarked as he stabbed his fork into it.

"I think the pink icing is supposed to indicate the peppermint," Johanna replied as she picked up her own fork.

"Then it should be red."

"You have to be careful with some red frostings," she told him. "For some reason, the flavor of a red frosting can be different from other colored frostings."

"I'll take your word for it," he said as he took a bite of the cake. He frowned as he chewed, looking across the table for Johanna's reaction but she seemed to be masking it as she took another small bite. "Well?" he asked.

"It's bland," she replied. "I don't taste the flavoring the way I expected. What do you think?"

"I hate the icing."

She smiled. "Because it's girly or because you don't like the taste?"

"I don't like the taste, it's too sweet," Jim replied. "I didn't taste any peppermint in the cake part and I know you used the peppermint extract it called for, I watched you put it in."

"I know…we'll say cake number one is a fail," Johanna remarked. "Let's try the other one."

Jim pulled the other piece of cake forward and wiped off his fork on a napkin before he stabbed it into the cake that had white icing. He put the bite in his mouth and had to force himself to chew and swallow it. "I hate it," he declared before Johanna could even ask. "Way too much peppermint in this one."

"I agree," she said with a frown as she reached for her glass of soda to wash it down. "I told you I thought that recipe called for a little much when it came to peppermint."

"You did say that…but I don't think I would've liked this one even if you had tweaked it based on your hunch. It just isn't right."

"Back to the drawing board," Johanna replied as she got up from the table. "I have some bakery boxes in that far cupboard," she said, pointing in the direction of it. "Get two out and put those cakes in them; we'll give them away if someone wants to take them."

"You're starting cake three now?" he asked as he did what he had been told.

"Yes," she answered. "And once it's in the oven for a little while, I'll mix up cake four."

"Can't we take a break?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you don't just take a break this early in the mission," she retorted.

"Fine; you keep working, I'll go watch TV until you're ready for the tasting portion," Jim stated as he finished putting the cakes into boxes.

"Bored of my company already?" Johanna asked.

"Not bored of you, just bored of the cake baking process."

"We're barely started."

"So now we know I would've never made it as a chef," he replied. "Let's just forget it and go out and do something. I'll take you ice skating if you want; didn't you mention that you wanted to go skating?"

"I do want to go skating…but I also want to find the right peppermint cake recipe."

"Why's it so important?"

"Because it's Christmas and it's a part of my childhood memories."

"Sweetheart; sometimes memories are just that, memories; they can't be recreated."

She poured her cake mix into a bowl and narrowed her eyes at him. "If you didn't want to help me you could've just said so."

"You know I can't say no when you're using you feminine charms on me."

Johanna sighed. "Feel free to drop out of the project; I can test them on my own."

"Why don't we both drop out? There are better things to do."

She shook her head. "If you want to go do something, go ahead. I won't be mad."

"You will be."

"I won't," she said sincerely. "Go."

"We could probably find a peppermint cake in one of the million bakeries in this city, Jo."

"It's not the same."

"Why."

"Because I didn't make it!" she exclaimed. "I want something to be mine."

"How can it be yours when you're using someone else's recipe?"

"These recipes are in the public domain," Johanna remarked. "No one else in my family makes this kind of cake."

"What's that got to do with anything?" he asked.

"Everything I make I learned from my mother and my grandmother, there are even a few things I learned from my great grandmother. Mom has her white icing and Grandma has her biscotti. I want something that's mine…my specialty. Something I only make at Christmas like Grandma does. A big part of the holidays in my family are baking things, making things that people look forward to. Everyone looks forward to Grandma's biscotti…Mom makes her icing all the time but at Christmas everyone looks forward to her fudge. I want my own thing…it may sound crazy to you, but it's not to me."

"Did you ever think that maybe your family puts too much stock into baked goods? It has to add to the holiday stress. My mother bakes a few cookies and we call it a day."

"In my family everything is important at Christmas," Johanna replied. "Everything is more special. My mother always says that food is an expression of love; that if love goes into whatever you're making for the people you care about, it's going to taste even better."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "I guess my mother doesn't feel the love all the time then…especially at Christmas. She makes a big meal and a few cookies and that's it. She doesn't over do it or stress over it. We don't make a bigger deal out of it than it needs to be."

She frowned. "You don't like Christmas much, do you?"

"I like Christmas!" he exclaimed. "I just try not to stress about it like some people."

"I'm not stressed; I just like cake," Johanna retorted. "I want a specific cake, I want to make it myself, I want it to be my own thing and if you don't want to help me, you don't have to. Go be a bah humbug in front of the TV or go out and see if little Jeff Campbell wants to play today."

He smiled. "I didn't mean to offend you and your long family history of baking."

"I'm not offended; I just have work to do."

She was offended, he thought to himself. He should back away and let her forget that he had stuck his foot over that line. "Yell when you're ready for the cakes to be tested," he told her.

Johanna waved him off without a word, her attention on the next recipe in her pile. He sighed; lesson number 345 in the game of women, never tell them their efforts in the kitchen were over the top or unnecessary. He moved into the living room and settled down on the sofa and grabbed the remote; he'd just take a little break…and reconcile the thought that we was marrying into a family where baked goods were clearly something not to be trifled with.

* * *

A short while later, Jim heard the oven door closing and the kitchen timer being set. His fiancée swept into the room a moment later with a magazine in hand and settled down in the arm chair. "You're not setting with me?" Jim asked.

"No," she replied.

"Why not? You sat with me while the last two cakes baked."

"That was then," Johanna replied; "This is now."

"What's different between then and now?"

"You know what the difference is," she answered. "You want me to give up my mission."

Jim sighed. "Only because it's a little ridiculous to bake seven cakes…and possibly hate them all. You already didn't like two of them…after the third let's just call it a day in the kitchen and we'll go out to a few bakeries and see what we can find. It's less work for you that way."

"I don't mind the work," she stated; "And I already explained to you why this matters to me; why can't you see that? Do I tell you not to watch all the games of the World Series? Because I have to tell you; I think it's a bit ridiculous that the same two teams have to play so many games to decide a winner. I'm pretty sure three would suffice."

"Really?" Jim asked; "You're going to compare baking to baseball?"

"Yes, I am," she replied. "You don't mind sitting through ten ballgames but you can't stand to go through the baking process with me…and I'm pretty sure I sat through those games with you with the exception of one."

"Okay; first of all, it's not ten games…"

"Just feels like it," Johanna quipped.

Jim smirked at her. "As I was saying, it's not ten games; it's seven…and this year it wasn't even seven; it was four."

"Four not entirely exciting games," she remarked.

"I highly doubt that you paid attention to most of it," Jim replied. "In fact, I recall that you were re-reading Gone with the Wind because you had finally bought your own copy instead of borrowing it from the library."

"I still recall the games and I didn't complain," she stated.

"I think your nose in the book was enough indication that you weren't fully invested."

"I must've been invested somewhat," Johanna replied; "After all, I know the Yankees lost…they lost all four games…they lost them really badly too."

Jim glared at her. "That's cruel, Johanna."

She nodded. "Cruel but true; your team lost and they lost badly."

He scoffed. "It was just a small string of bad luck; they'll be back next season; you'll see."

"Uh huh; sure they will."

"They will!" he exclaimed; "What do you know about baseball anyway?"

"Only what you've taught me, darling; and you taught me that a team that loses four games in a row isn't a very good team at all…at least that's what you said about that one team that wasn't the Yankees."

"The Yankees will do better next season; you mark my words!"

She smiled as she casually flipped the pages in her magazine. "You get a little riled up about your baseball, don't you?"

"It's the best sport there is," he declared; "And my team doesn't serve being maligned."

"Oh come now; a little maligning might be deserved for such a bad loss in the series…don't you think you might put a little too much importance on these games? Would it really be so horrible for the world of baseball if the Yankees had a little slump for awhile?"

"Of course it would!"

"Now, dear; don't you think you're getting a little worked up over silliness?" she asked with a raised brow and a pointed look that made him want to fight her and kiss her all at the same time.

"Are you goading me?" he asked.

"Would I do that?" she responded with false innocence.

"I think you would."

"Oh I wouldn't call it goading," she remarked as she laid her magazine on the arm of the chair.

"No?"

"No…more like slapping your words back in your face," Johanna answered. "Funny how that happens, isn't it?"

"You think you're cute, don't you?"

She smiled sassily. "I've been told that I'm adorable."

"Mhmm; you're adorable alright but it looks like I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

"Oh?" she asked; "About what?"

"About this behavior of yours," he replied; "I don't think a proper wife sasses her husband quite so much especially when it comes to his favorite sport and team."

Johanna laughed. "Apparently you've been misinformed…after all; if it's wrong for a wife to sass the husband about his team; it should be equally wrong for the husband to sass the wife about her cake baking."

"The husband is the head of the household and allowed to sass about cake baking since he's the boss," Jim quipped.

His fiancée smiled. "Aww, it's always so cute when you're delusional."

His brow arched, mischief in his eyes. "Delusional? About which statement am I delusional?"

Her laughter rang out loudly. "Well I should think it would be obvious; that part about being the boss…and the sassing of the cake baking…which I can say with certainty that if that continues; you will not eat any of my cakes again."

"Now that is just cruel and unusual punishment, Miss McKenzie and that is against the law," Jim replied.

"Is that so?" she teased. "Well just what are you going to do about it?"

He laughed. "Oh I'm going to have to teach you that lesson," he said as he got up from the sofa.

Johanna bounded to her feet and took off for the kitchen, Jim racing behind her, trying to corner her but she kept dashing just out of reach of his hands. "Hold still and take your lesson like a proper young lady," he told her.

She burst into laughter. "I never clamed to be a proper lady…lucky for you."

"That does it," Jim said; mischief all over his face. "You're going to get it now."

"Oh yeah; just how do you propose to accomplish that feat?"

Jim glanced around the kitchen and noted the bag of flour was still open and sitting on the cupboard. He casually reached into the bag and picked up a handful, giving her a menacing look as he did so.

"Don't you dare!" Johanna said; pointing a finger at him.

"Don't dare what?" he asked.

"You know what!"

"Do I?" Jim questioned. "Could you possibly mean, don't do this?" he asked as he tossed the flour at her, hitting her in the chin.

"You are going to pay for that!" she exclaimed.

"Oh am I?" he laughed. "You seem to be without a weapon…you're going to lose, sweetheart."

"You think so?" she asked; eyeing the bowl of leftover icing from the first cake that was still sitting on the table. She grabbed the spatula, sweeping up a large glob of pink icing and flinging it at him; managing to hit him in the face with it. "Looks like I'm armed after all."

"Now you're really going to have to be punished," he remarked, swiping the icing off his face and flinging it back at her. She dodged the move; flinging another spatula full of icing at him.

"So you want to play that way?" Jim asked; tossing more flour in her direction and then grabbing another bowl of icing that sat on the counter.

"Not that icing!" she exclaimed. "That's for the next cake."

"Isn't that a pity?" Jim said sarcastically as he threw a glob at her, managing to land it in her hair.

"You jerk!"

Jim laughed. "Now don't talk about your future husband like that; really, Jo; you're just going to have to learn lessons all weekend if you keep this up."

"Me! I think you're going to need a few lessons…like how to properly treat the icing that I just made for a cake that isn't even done baking yet!"

"Oh I'm so upset about that," Jim said sarcastically. "Here, taste it and see if it was really worth saving," he said; flinging another glob of it at her.

"You are in so much trouble," Johanna said as she swiped away a small splatter of icing that had landed close to her eye.

"You're the one who's in trouble," he replied; flicking the spatula at her again.

"We'll just see about that," she retorted; sending a glob of the rejected icing at him and hitting him in the side of the face.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked.

"What?"

"This means war," Jim declared; lobbing another handful of flour that he managed to grab from the bag.

She shrieked as she tried to dodge the flour. The fight ensued, both of them flinging any ingredient they could find as they chased each other around the kitchen. By the time Jim had caught hold of Johanna, they were both covered in icing, flour, sugar and any number of other ingredients. His fiancée tried to squirm away from him but Jim trapped her by the table, pushing her back down against it and lightly capturing her wrists; looking down at her with a victorious gleam in his eyes. "Let me go," she laughed.

"Not until you say the Yankees are the best team in the universe," he told her.

"How can I say that when they lost four straight games in the World Series?"

Jim smirked at her. "I see you still haven't learned your lesson," he said; holding her wrists with one hand as he reached into a bowl and scooped up the last glob of icing and did his best to smear it on her face but she kept turning her head away, laughing as she did so, causing him to trail most of it down her neck. "Say it," he demanded with a laugh.

"Never!"

"Don't make me dump the flour in your hair," he told her. "Say the Yankees are the best."

She arched a brow at him. "Say homemade cake mix is better than boxed!"

"I haven't made that decision yet," he replied; "But the Yankees are waiting for your loyalty."

"Oh yeah? Where's my loyalty?"

He grinned. "Now, Sweetheart; you know I'm loyal to you."

"And yet you want to abandon the mission you willingly volunteered to take."

"I wasn't aware of the full extent of the mission."

"Doesn't matter; you accepted, so there," she said, sticking her tongue out at him for added effect.

Jim laughed. "Now is that any way for a professional woman like you to act?"

"When dealing with a man like you, absolutely," Johanna remarked.

"I'm still waiting for you to say that the Yankees are the best and will have a wonderful next season."

"That wasn't in the original demand."

"Doesn't matter," he replied, smacking her words back at her and sticking his tongue out as well.

Johanna squirmed and tried to step on his foot which only made him laugh and tickle her. "Stop, stop," she said with breathless giggles. "I surrender!"

"Say it or I egg your hair," Jim remarked; reaching for an egg he spied on the table.

"Don't you dare!"

"Then you better say it," he teased, his fingers gripping the egg a little tighter as if he was going to crack it.

"The Yankees are the best!" she exclaimed.

"That's a good girl," Jim said, putting the egg down and releasing her.

She couldn't help but giggle as she brushed back a wayward lock of hair. "I'm a mess," she stated; looking down at herself, her clothes and skin splattered with icing and flour.

"A beautiful mess though," Jim remarked; his fingers raking her hair back from her face and then trailing along the curve of her cheek, warmth and love in his eyes.

Johanna smiled; her fingertips caressing his jaw. "Only in your eyes."

"My eyes are the only ones that matter," he said; his tone low, sending a shiver through her as he caught her lips in a kiss.

The atmosphere suddenly crackled with passion; their kisses growing more heated as he pulled her into his arms, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and moving lazily against the small of her back. The timer for the cake went off, startling them and forcing Johanna to break away from his intoxicating kisses. "The cake," she murmured.

"Let it burn," he replied; his lips moving to the side of her neck.

"I can't do that."

"You can; we'll make another one…after a break."

She gently pushed away from him and shut off the timer; grabbing the potholder so that she could grab the cake from the oven and set it on the messy counter to cool. Jim's hands were around her waist as soon as the oven door closed. "Break time," he murmured against her ear.

"Is it?"

"Mhmm…you know I didn't like this icing on the cake but I don't mind it on you," he quipped; his lips returning to her neck.

Her fingers slipped into his hair, giving it a gentle tug to urge his lips back to hers as she shifted against him without thought. "I guess we could take a little break," she whispered.

Jim smiled. "That's right…the law requires a break during work, you know."

A grin curved her lips upwards. "We wouldn't want to break the law."

"No, we wouldn't," he remarked as he lifted her off her feet; her legs wrapping around his waist. "You're smart to listen to your attorney."

Johanna smiled; the cake and the mess forgotten as he headed for the doorway of the kitchen. "You have my undivided attention, counselor…for however long this break of ours lasts."

"I'm not a man to hurry through a break," he replied. "It might take awhile."

"That's completely fine with me…I'm not a woman to be rushed myself," she murmured seductively as they moved through the living room.

"Then we agree to an extended break," Jim remarked; "And I'm going to hold you to that agreement…and no cake shall break the agreement or there's going to be serious litigation against you, Miss McKenzie."

Johanna laughed. "You don't have to worry, Mr. Beckett; I'm all yours…now let's put an end to the terms and conditions and move on to that break we seem to be in need of."

"My thoughts exactly," he replied as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom and carefully put her down, his mouth capturing hers before she could utter another word.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!_

Chapter 5- The Mission Continues

Later on that day, Jim paused in the doorway of the kitchen and watched as Johanna opened the oven and pulled out the rack so that she could stick a toothpick into the cake she was baking to see if it was done. He couldn't help but smile as he admired her; her tousled hair pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping and framing her face. She was clad in his black t-shirt, the material loose on her slender frame, causing it to hang off one shoulder, giving him a glimpse of a pale pink bra strap that he had divested her of earlier. Her feet and legs were bare, the warmth of the kitchen keeping her from being chilled as she went about her task.

Johanna finally sensed his gaze upon her as she lifted the cake from the oven and sat it on the counter. "Are you ogling me?"

"Always," he replied. "You stole my shirt."

She gave him a saucy smile as her gaze strayed to his bare chest. "It's not the first time; and besides, you look pretty damn good without it."

He grinned. "You look pretty damn good without it too."

"Don't start that again," she said with a soft giggle.

"Why not?" Jim asked as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her. "It was fun."

"It was fun," Johanna agreed as she melted into his embrace.

"Then come back to bed…we can have more fun."

"We won't get anything done if we keep taking these little breaks of yours."

"Speak for yourself," he chuckled. "I feel pretty accomplished."

"Mhmm," she said, eyeing him knowingly. "But let's not forget that you accepted my mission…and the mission wasn't to see how many times you could get me out of my clothes in one day."

Jim smiled. "But you accepted my mission when you allowed me to call that break," he said as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I was in the moment," Johanna declared.

"There's another moment coming your way, sweetheart."

Her lips brushed against his chest in a soft kiss; making him laugh quietly. "I knew you wanted me," he murmured.

"You, sir; are conceited and far too smug," she replied; her hand slipping around the back of his neck and beckoning him to lower his lips for a kiss.

"Perhaps," he murmured as he pressed soft kisses against the line of her jaw; "But you like it."

A coy grin touched her lips. "I like _you._ "

"I know," he quipped. "How can you not? I mean I'm quite a catch and you were smart enough to get out your net."

Johanna laughed and pushed him away. "You smug jackass."

He laughed as she turned back to the counter to tend to the cake she had just taken out of the oven. "Just remember; I'm _your_ jackass," he stated.

"That's right, mine and mine alone," she replied lightly as she gently extracted the cake from the pan. "So if any of those bimbos at work try to hang around you, you better just send them packing."

"Count on it," he replied. "I thought you took a cake out of the oven before we took our break."

"I did," Johanna answered. "I baked another one while you were being lazy."

"Lazy?" Jim repeated with a wry grin as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and allowed his fingertips to skim against her thigh. "That's not an accusation you were making earlier."

"No; but it's one I'm making now," she laughed; "After all; while you were stretched out in my bed, I cleaned up the mess you made here in the kitchen, baked another cake and made two different frostings.'

"So you're an overachiever," he said flippantly. "I'm not surprised to discover that about you."

Johanna smirked at him as she turned toward him, her hand raising and tapping against his cheek lightly. "I didn't hear any complaints about that earlier."

"Of course not," Jim replied; a teasing glint in his eyes. "I love an overachiever."

Johanna rolled her eyes but the gesture was dampened by the smile that remained on her lips. "As soon as this cake cools, I'll get the icing put on it and we'll test it and the other one that's finished."

"Since that cake has to cool; that means you'll be ready for another break now," her fiancé said, a suggestive lilt in his voice.

"Don't go getting excited, Romeo; I'm going to mix up the next cake and get it into the oven."

"Really?" he nearly whined.

"Really."

He sighed. "I thought we were supposed to go shopping this weekend; I forgot about that until now. We're supposed to shop for our parents and grandmothers."

Johanna laughed. "You're so desperate to get out of my cake baking mission that you want to go Christmas shopping?"

"If I say yes does that mean we'll go?"

"No," she replied. "We'll do that tomorrow."

He frowned. "This weekend isn't turning out exactly like I thought it would."

"You say that like it's been a terrible day so far; and it hasn't, has it?"

"No; I just hate the waiting," he replied. "Why does it take so damn long to bake a cake?"

Johanna shrugged. "I don't know; probably because the universe likes to torment you."

"It must," he stated; "And in reference to an earlier comment; if I'm Romeo that makes you Juliette and I just remembered how that story ended…we need to be some other couple. Are there any love stories that don't end tragically?"

"Cinderella and Prince Charming," she answered with a grin as she grabbed a clean mixing bowl from the drainer where it had been drying.

"I love you but I'm not wearing tights for you," Jim remarked. "There's just got to be a limit of what I'd do for you."

His fiancée laughed. "I didn't ask you to wear tights; you asked for a non tragic couple and I gave you Cinderella and Prince Charming."

"We can't be them; Cinderella's blonde and you're not…and I would've chased after you after the ball; not just clung to your shoe," he quipped.

"Fine; Snow White and her Prince…I'm not sure he has a name but you know beggars can't be choosers."

Jim pondered that for a moment. "Well; Snow White does have dark hair."

"Yes; and she ate a poisoned apple given by the evil queen…and I ate a pecan laced dinner given by your evil mother."

He nodded. "It's almost like this fairy tale is about you."

Johanna laughed. "You've still got You're So Vain stuck in your head from this morning's trip to the market; don't you?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'm starting to think it's about me."

"You wish," she quipped.

"Hey, you never know," he grinned; "And getting back to the Snow White thing; I better not catch seven stooges following you around."

"They're dwarfs, honey."

"Same thing."

She shook her head at him. "You don't have to worry; there aren't any dwarfs following me around…unless you count Jeff's occasional visits to my office when he's bored and you and Maggie aren't around."

"I suppose there isn't much threat from Dopey," Jim said with a laugh. "I'll give him a pass."

She laughed. "If Jeff is Dopey; what's that make Phil?"

"Sweetheart; it should be obvious; he's Grumpy."

"You're right; that should've been obvious."

"Of course…and I'm still not wearing tights for you."

"That's a shame," Johanna replied. "I have some very nice pantyhose you could've tried if you were interested."

"I'm never interested," he stated. "I don't even like when you wear pantyhose…I don't mind the kind you wear that's individual stockings that go to the top of your thigh but when you've got on that other pantyhose I just can't stand it."

" _You_ can't stand it?" she asked; knowing very well that he was referring to the standard version of pantyhose. "How is it such a hardship for you?"

"Well look how long it took me to get you out of that pair you had on a few weeks ago; that was just ridiculous," Jim replied. "I was starting to think that you wore them as some kind of armor to keep me away from your body."

She laughed. "No; that's not the case at all; but if I recall correctly; you won the fight with them…I had to throw them in the garbage because they were full of runs and torn."

"Good; that's where they belong; don't wear those anymore…that's one of my demands as your future husband. No pantyhose like that ever again."

"Okay but if we're making demands, you keep your cold feet off of me," Johanna said. "I'm cold enough in the winter, I don't need your frozen feet on my leg making it worse."

"I put them there to warm them up for you."

"Wear socks."

"I can't wear socks to bed; that's unnatural," he stated.

"Then keep your feet on your own side of the bed."

"Fine but you keep those pantyhose off your legs."

"I rarely ever wear that kind," she replied. "I like the other ones better."

"Me too; they peel right off."

"And that's the most important thing, right?" Johanna asked.

Jim nodded. "Yes; I don't want to keep you waiting."

"I should've known you were going to say that," she remarked as she began to mix up the ingredients she had dumped into the mixing bowl.

"You probably should have," he agreed.

Johanna smirked at him as she poured the batter into the cake pan and then double checked the temperature the recipe called for before sliding it into the oven.

"Where are you going?" Jim asked when she headed toward the doorway of the kitchen.

"To put pants on," she answered.

"Why?" he said as he moved to follow her. "You look so good without them."

"My legs are getting chilly."

"I can warm you up," he offered.

Johanna tossed a look over her shoulder. "Every time you say that I end up naked."

He grinned. "That's because body heat is the most effective way to warm someone up; I learned about that in the Boy Scouts."

"You did not!" she exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter where I learned it," he replied; "All that matters is that I'm willing to use the knowledge."

"I bet you are," she said as she moved into the bedroom and went to the dresser.

"Don't you even want to give my method a chance?" he asked as she took a pair of black leggings from the drawer and pulled them on.

"I already tried your method earlier," she said with a wink. "It was very enjoyable and I was very warm for the time being."

"That's why you need a repeat."

"Nope, not right now," Johanna replied. "You should put a shirt on before you get cold."

"Are you really concerned that I'll be cold or are you just afraid that you'll want me too much if I keep walking around without one?" Jim asked.

She laughed as she began to straighten up the bed. "It's not that funny," he said. "I'm pretty sure that's the real reason; you want me, you want me really bad."

"Honey; I already had you today," she quipped as she finished her task.

"You say that like you can't have me again," he replied; "And I assure you that you can…we can take another break."

"We are taking a break…in the living room…on the couch in front of the TV."

"That's not as much fun."

"We'll give it a try anyway; put a shirt on before you get cold."

"I can't," Jim replied. "You're wearing my shirt."

She smirked at him. "You have others in the drawer."

"Don't go thinking that I haven't noticed that you steal my shirts," he remarked lightly.

"If it'll make you feel better; you can wear one of mine…try the pink one; I bet you'd look cute in it," she said sassily.

Jim did his best to glare at her as he moved to the dresser to grab another shirt. "You keep that up and you're not getting anything for Christmas."

"You wouldn't do that to me."

"I might," he teased.

"Well, in that case; I guess I'll have to give you back your shirt so I can stay on the nice list."

Jim shook his head. "I'd rather you keep it with the idea of rejoining the naughty list later."

"We'll see."

He sighed dramatically. "Has anyone ever told you that you're difficult?"

"Yes," Johanna replied as she resumed her trek to the living room. "I take great pride in it."

"Somehow I knew that," her fiancé remarked as he pulled on his shirt and followed behind her.

Johanna curled into his side once he joined her on the sofa and he smiled as he wrapped an arm around her and picked up the remote to flip channels. "How many cakes are left?" he asked.

"Cake three is ready; cake four is cooling and cake five is baking; only two left after that."

He sighed. "Can we order pizza for dinner?"

"I thought you wanted chicken."

"I've kind of had enough of the cooking and baking thing for today. I just want to pick up a slice of pizza from the box and eat it."

She nodded. "I'm game for that."

"Good…I'll be glad when this experiment is over."

"Oh quit whining," Johanna told him. "Didn't you have any favorite holiday treats when you were a kid?"

"Of course I did. I loved gingerbread," he answered.

"Does your mom make gingerbread men?"

"No; Grandma does."

"Did you help her make them when you were little?"

"No," he laughed; "That's a girl thing."

"It is not!"

"Yes it is; baking is for girls."

"Baking is for girls and yet you eat the finished product," she remarked.

"Right; baking them is for girls, eating them is for men."

Her brow rose. "If baking is for girls; then why are a lot of bakeries in this city and around the world owned by men?"

"I don't know," Jim replied; "But I still think it's more of a girl thing. I mean let's think about it; me baking cookies would be like you working on a car."

Johanna shifted away from him and met his eye. "What are you saying; I'm not smart enough to work on a car?"

"I'm not saying you're not smart enough; just that you don't have the skill for it; no woman I know has the skill for it."

"That doesn't mean we can't do it! Women are just as capable of working on cars as men are!"

"They might be capable but it's a man thing and should be left to men," he replied. "We know more about it."

"What gets left to women?" she asked.

"All things kitchen related."

Her jaw dropped. "That's so sexist!"

"It is not."

"It is!"

Jim shook his head. "It's not; you like the kitchen and I like working on cars; we both win."

"No; you're just pretending that you weren't implying that women can't do things that men do."

Jim shook his head. "That's not true at all. I'm all for equal rights and you have them; you've got the right to vote, you have a career, birth control pills, your own aisle in the drugstore for your lady issues, you can wear pants to work and chose who you marry without your father's permission. What more do you want?"

"For men not to be jackasses," Johanna said without missing a beat.

Jim grinned. "Well, sweetheart, as my mother always says, "you can't always get what you want but sometimes you find what you need"."

She smirked at him. "That's not your mother, that's the Rolling Stones."

"They stole that line from my mother."

"Sure they did," she said sarcastically.

"They did; trust me, it was hers first."

"Uh huh."

"Can you prove it wasn't?"

No; but I feel pretty safe in guessing that Elizabeth Beckett hasn't been rubbing elbows with Mick Jagger."

"You never know; she could have."

"Sure," she said with a laugh; "Around the same time Carly Simon was writing 'You're So Vain' about you."

"That's exactly when it was; how did you know?" he laughed.

"Oh I heard all about it from Cher," she quipped; "And don't try to wiggle away from the original topic of this conversation."

"Why not? I think we've done all we can do with it…I could go for a beer; why don't you get me one," he said.

Johanna side eyed him. "As my mother always says to my father; "get up and get it yourself, I'm not your slave."

"See, sweetheart; you're plenty liberated," he said in amusement as he got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to get a beer.

When he returned to the room a minute later; his fiancée was still eyeing him as if she was waiting for something. "What?" he asked. "Did you want one?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm still waiting on you to say that women are just as capable."

Jim sighed as he returned to his spot on the couch. He took a sip of his beer and then met her gaze. "Okay; fine; women are just as capable of working on cars as men are…now get outside and give my Camaro a tune up."

She smirked at him. "Bite me."

A sly grin crossed his lips. "I thought you'd never ask; come on," he said, stretching an arm out toward her. "Come a little closer and I'll oblige."

Johanna rolled her eyes as a smile came to her lips. "I hate you."

He laughed loudly. "The only thing you hate is how bad you want me. You want me really bad, don't you? Why are you fighting it? I'm willing to help you give into your temptations."

"No; you want me to give in to _your_ temptations," she replied; "And I already did that…and given your recent comments, I'm not sure that's going to happen again today."

"Maybe you should have a beer," Jim said.

"Nope; I'm going to go put the icing on the cake."

"You're choosing cake over me again?!"

"Yes, dear; remember; a girl's place is in the kitchen."

"I was joking," he stated; "totally joking."

"Uh huh; sure you were."

"Alright, Sassy; play hard to get," he said. "I'll get some pizza and a beer or two in you and you'll be friendly again."

"You sure about that?" she asked.

"If past history is any indication; I can almost guarantee it," he answered.

"You jerk," she laughed as she smacked his shoulder.

He laughed and gave her a playful shove back which made her retaliate with the same gesture. They carried on their playfulness until she finally realized that somewhere in the midst of it, she had ended up lying on the couch, the weight of her fiancé pressing against as he captured her lips in soft kisses, his hand subtly maneuvering beneath her shirt.

Johanna managed to place her hand against his chest and give him a gentle push back. "No; not again; I have a cake in the oven and one that needs the icing put on it."

"We'll be quick," he replied.

"Nope," she said as she wiggled out from beneath him and got up from the sofa.

Jim sighed. "How did this go wrong? I thought I was winning here."

"Guess you were wrong," Johanna replied with a wink as she headed to the kitchen.

Jim reluctantly got up from the couch and followed her; leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as he watched her move the cake to the table where a bowl of icing waited. He studied her as she dipped the odd shaped knife in the bowl and began to spread a pale pink frosting across the cake. "What kind of knife is that?" he asked. "I've never seen one like that before."

"It's not a knife; it's a spatula."

"A spatula? That doesn't look like any spatula I've ever seen."

"This is a spatula that is specifically for icing cakes," Johanna explained.

"My mother just uses a butter knife."

"Sometimes I do too but I like this better; it makes the icing smooth and even…it's also a little faster…and I know the faster we get done the happier you'll be."

Jim sat down at the table. "I can't deny that but it's not because of you."

She glanced at him. "It was my idea so…"

"So nothing," he remarked. "How long until the cake in the oven is finished?"

"Not too long," she answered; "It'll probably be done while we're testing these two that's ready."

He said nothing in response, not wanting to get on her bad side with too many whiny complaints about how long this process was taking.

When she finished icing the cake; Johanna told Jim to sit down as she cut a slice for each of them from cakes three and four. She sat the plates on the table and poured them each a drink and then rejoined him. "Ready for round two of taste testing?" she asked.

"I'm ready," Jim replied as he picked up his fork. "Which one are we starting with?"

"Let's start with cake three; it has the white icing."

Jim took a bite of the cake, chewed and swallowed it. "It's dry and the icing has no taste," he stated.

Johanna nodded. "I agree; it is dry…I think something was off with the measurements they gave for ingredients. The icing is unimpressive…it has no flavor to it and I put peppermint in it."

"Is the bottle of peppermint bad?" Jim asked.

She shook her head. "No; I tested it after that one cake that we couldn't taste it in; it's fine, just the way it should be."

"Must just be a sucky cake," he remarked.

"Must be."

"Let's try cake four," she said as picked up her glass to take a drink and then wiped off her fork. Johanna sliced into her piece of cake and took a bite, grimacing as she did so, quickly spitting it back out on the plate. "Oh my God; that's the worst cake I've ever had in my life," she declared as she got up and picked the cake up that she had just finished icing minutes before. She carried it to the trash can and tilted the plate so that it would slide off into the garbage.

"You didn't even wait on my opinion," Jim said as she returned to the table.

"I don't need it," she replied. "It was awful."

"If I have to be a part of this, I want my opinion heard."

"Fine," Johanna said; "What's your opinion?"

"I think there was enough peppermint in that cake to kill an elf…not to mention the sugar overdose in the icing."

"That's why it's in the garbage," his fiancée replied; "And I might just write a letter to the magazine that I got that recipe from and ask them what the hell they were thinking when they endorsed that cake because they must have been crazy."

"You do that, sweetheart," he told her as the timer went off for the cake in the oven.

"Don't think I won't," she said; "I ought to sue them for false advertisement for claiming that piece of garbage is a cake."

He chuckled quietly. "Don't go getting riled, Sassy."

"Recipes that turn out to be garbage make me angry," Johanna remarked.

"I've noticed."

They made small talk while the fifth cake cooled and after she put the icing on it, she once again cut them each a slice to taste. "Well?" Johanna asked after they had each taken a bite.

He shrugged. "I don't hate it but I wouldn't cry if I never had it again. What do you think?"

She sighed; a frown appearing on her lips. "It's not the one I'm looking for…by the way; I used your sucky boxed cake mix for this one."

"I can tell."

"Oh?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah…I like it better than your homemade ones," he replied.

Johanna's eyes narrowed at him. "Why don't you just slap me?"

"What?"

"You prefer Betty Crocker to my homemade cake mix that's been passed down through the generations? Seriously!?" she exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Are you just trying to annoy me?"

"No; I'm being honest," Jim replied. "I like the boxed mix better…I like the cakes you make; but I do prefer ones made from a box."

"Fine," she said. "I'll never make you cake again."

"Let's not go that far," he exclaimed. "I said I like your cakes; it's just that boxed mixes come out better in my opinion."

"Are you saying this so when we're married I won't buy the ingredients to make my own cake mix?" Johanna asked.

"No; I really do prefer Betty Crocker."

"Well then why don't you go marry her!" his fiancée all but yelled as she picked up the plates the slices of cake were on and carried them to the garbage.

"I don't think Betty Crocker's a real person," he answered.

Johanna put her hand on her hip. "So if she was, you'd go running to her and her boxes of cake mix?"

Jim gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't like this anymore."

"You don't like what?"

"This conversation or the experiment; I'm not having fun anymore."

"Well too bad; you accepted the mission and you're going to see it through!" Johanna told him. "Tomorrow we're baking cakes six and seven; now go order dinner; I'm getting a shower."

He couldn't help but smile at the spark of fire in her eyes and the way she jutted her chin upwards in anger. "Do you need help? Because I could come in after I order the pizza and assist you with any hard to reach spots…"

"I can reach all my spots just fine," she remarked. "Go take a shower with Betty Crocker!"

"But you're my Betty Crocker," he replied with a laugh.

"Don't ask me what you are," Johanna said flippantly as she left the kitchen.

Jim smiled as he got up and made his way to the living room; thinking to himself that maybe after he called and ordered the pizza, he might just slip into that shower anyway to offer his assistance once more in hopes of getting back into her good graces in light of what he would now call 'Betty-Gate'.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews and Happy Holidays!_

Chapter 6- Team Work

After spending part of Sunday entrenched in Christmas shopping; Jim and Johanna returned to her home and unloaded the packages into the closet to be dealt with at a later time. Jim kicked off his shoes and grabbed a drink from the fridge as Johanna went off to change her clothes. He flipped channels while waiting on her to reappear; wondering if he should suggest an evening out since she hadn't mentioned going to her mother's for dinner but he wasn't sure he wanted to venture back out into the madness of holiday inspired chaos that was growing steadily in the city as Christmas grew nearer. He settled on a rerun that he found as his fiancée walked into the room looking like she had no intention of leaving the apartment for the rest of the day given that she was in her favorite faded jeans and a t-shirt.

"Are you going to your mother's tonight for dinner?" he asked.

"No; I've been given permission to skip it," Johanna replied.

"Oh yeah? You didn't tell me that."

She nodded. "When I talked to Mom on Friday during my break at work, she mentioned that if I needed a weekend away she wouldn't take it personally since I had to go through that introducing you to my father thing last weekend."

"So you got a free pass to stay with me," he said with a grin.

"I suppose you could put it that way," Johanna remarked as she pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail.

"What are we going to do for dinner? Do you want to go out?"

"I was thinking about pizza leftovers from last night."

"Sounds good to me; anything else you want to do today that we haven't gotten to yet?"

"Yeah; I'm going to my kitchen and bake those last two cakes," she stated as she resumed her trek.

Jim got up from the couch and followed her. "You hadn't mentioned that this morning; I thought maybe you gave it up."

She shook her head. "No; I'm not giving it up when I still have two recipes."

"Well; at least it's only two today," he stated as he watched her move to the cupboards to take down her mixing bowls.

"Don't worry; I wasn't going to bother you with it," Johanna replied. "Go watch TV or find something to do; I've got this."

His brow rose as he regarded her. "What do you mean you weren't going to bother me with it; I thought I was a part of your mission."

She shook her head. "I've kicked you off my mission."

"What do you mean I'm off the mission?!"

Johanna glanced at him as she grabbed a cake mix from the cupboard. "Well, honey; I wouldn't want to subject you to anymore cakes that aren't a product of Betty Crocker boxed mix. I might be tainting your poor little taste buds."

"Betty-Gate continues, huh?" he said with a sigh.

"It never stopped."

"I thought it had momentarily in the shower last night."

"That was just to lull you into a false sense of security," Johanna replied while turning on the oven. "I just wanted you to think that I could be so easily swayed."

"It's not nice to trick your fiancé," Jim remarked.

"It wasn't nice to say that you prefer Betty Crocker to my homemade cake mixes either but you did it."

"It's just what I'm used to," he told her.

"You've ate plenty of cakes that I've made; they were all made from scratch and you never said a word."

"I just assumed that you used a different brand than my mother."

Johanna's dark brow rose. "So you've never liked my cakes?"

"I never said that!"

"I kind of feel like you are…I mean what am I supposed to think?"

"I love your cakes!" Jim declared. "I think I've eaten enough of them to prove it to you."

"I didn't realize it was a chore for you."

"Don't twist my words!" he exclaimed.

"I'm not twisting; I'm merely reading the depth of your words."

"My words didn't have that depth; you're imagining it. I love your cakes!"

"I find that hard to believe since you prefer Betty…I'm sure that will make your mother happy. Be sure to tell her she won that round."

Jim shook his head. "No, no, no; I'm not telling her anything like that. I love your cakes; you make your own icing; my mother doesn't unless it's a birthday and then she makes buttercream icing…do you know how to make that?"

"No."

He frowned. "That's a bit disappointing."

"Disappointments must be going around…after all, you insulted my cake mix."

Jim sighed; there was only one way out of Betty-Gate. "When I said I liked Betty's mix better; I was lying."

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was…I was totally lying. I'd take your cake mix any day over Betty's."

"Uh huh, sure."

"I'm serious; I was lying."

"Why would you lie?" Johanna asked.

"Because I like to get you riled up," he replied.

"Why would you want to do that?"

He grinned as he shrugged. "Sometimes it's fun…and it sometimes leads to even hotter sex than usual."

"You'd risk life and limb insulting me for a chance at hotter sex than usual?"

"What can I say?" he said with a laugh. "I can't get enough of you."

"You better hope you got enough yesterday, because there will be nothing today."

"But why?" he asked.

Johanna put a hand on her hip as she regarded him. "You can do a lot of things, but you can't insult my baking or my shoes…there's a line you don't cross."

He couldn't help but grin. "But those pink Barbie looking high heels deserve to be a little insulted."

"There is nothing wrong with those shoes!" she exclaimed; slamming the refrigerator door after grabbing the eggs.

"Sweetheart; they're hot pink…I'm pretty sure Angie has a Barbie doll with those same shoes on."

"If Barbie is wearing them they must be the height of fashion; I might need to pick up a spare pair."

"I'll pay you not to," Jim replied. "I'll even pay you to get rid of the pair you already have."

"Keep it up and I'll wear them to our wedding," Johanna replied.

"My mother would have a field day with that."

"Who said she's going to show up?" she laughed. "I have a feeling Elizabeth will boycott as a protest to our marriage."

'Well then we won't have to worry about her objecting when that part of the ceremony comes up," Jim said thoughtfully. "It might not be such a bad idea if she boycotts."

Johanna glanced up from her mixing bowl. "Do you really think she'd object at the wedding?"

"I'd like to say no but given that she's staged disruptions of vacations and holiday dinner poisonings, not to mention telling your mother things she didn't need to know; I'm not going to put it past her."

Johanna sighed. "Maybe we should elope."

"We'll save elopement as our backup plan…and to show you what a good husband I'll be, you can save your Barbie shoes for the honeymoon."

"If you keep being mean to me you're going to be very sad come Christmas when there's nothing under that tree for you."

"I'm not being mean to you," he declared as he moved closer and brushed a kiss against her temple. "I love you…Barbie shoes and all."

"I'm going to put those Barbie shoes on and kick you with them."

He grinned. "Sounds exciting; then what are you going to do to me while wearing those shoes?"

"Nothing you'll like," Johanna told him as grabbed her recipes from the counter and tried to focus her attention on collecting the remaining ingredients she'd need.

"Am I back on your mission?" he asked.

"Nope; I don't want you on my mission. All you've done is complain and then insult my cake mix. You can just go off somewhere and amuse yourself. I'll bake the cakes and test them myself; I'm used to it anyway."

"What do you mean you're used to it?"

"Well, honey, I live alone; before you started eating here all the time, I was the only one taste testing the new recipes I found. It's fine though; I can handle this. It's not your thing and I get that…I should've left you off the hook sooner so you could find something to do with your weekend instead of being cooped up with me and my recipes."

"But I like being cooped up with you," he stated. "That's one of the reasons we're getting married…so I can be with you all the time."

"That doesn't mean you have to go along with my silliness," Johanna said while making her way back to the cupboard to get her cake pans. "This was my idea and I should've handled it alone. You're officially off the hook."

An odd feeling spread through him…he had wanted the mission to end prematurely so that they could find something more interesting to do with their time…but now that she had dropped him from her plans, basically told him that he was unneeded in her kitchen and that she could handle it all on her own…well…it made him feel oddly unwanted. That wasn't a feeling he liked in regard to the woman he loved. He wanted to be needed all the time…even if it was just to sit in the kitchen and keep her company while she baked enough cakes to open a bakery.

"I don't want to be off the hook," he said quietly.

"Why not?" she laughed. "That's all you've been harping about."

Jim shifted on his feet; he knew all about the amount of harping he had been doing but truth be told; they'd been having fun…their impromptu food fight, their talks…their 'breaks'. He hated the waiting…but he loved being with her. He loved to watch her, her energy, her intensity…the way she was just as focused and determined in the kitchen as she was in the courtroom. He liked watching her hands, how graceful they looked while icing cakes, how steady they were when slicing with a knife, how they gripped utensils and eggs with just the right pressure. He loved the way her brow would sometimes furrow when she concentrated on a recipe and the way she'd bite her bottom lip when she was carefully finishing her work.

"I thought you'd be happy to be off the hook," Johanna remarked, her voice breaking through his thoughts and pulling his gaze back to her face.

"I want to be on the hook," Jim stated.

"Why?"

"Because I love you," he murmured. "Any time spent with you is time well spent."

A small smile touched her lips. "It's okay though that you don't like this…I guess it is silly."

Jim shook his head. "It's not all that silly."

"What makes you think that all of a sudden?"

"Because it's a part of you," he answered; "And I'd never want to change it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be dragged along…or that you have to like what I make or use."

"But I do like the things you make…and I like what you use…and I like going along," Jim stated, his arms slipping around her waist, drawing her away from her bowl of cake mix and into his arms. "Please take me back for the mission; I'll be better about it."

"Alright," she whispered, her arms going around him tightly. "But only if you're sure…I don't want to hear any complaints if you're coming back on your own free will."

"I promise, sweetheart; no complaints."

"Okay; it's back to being a team mission."

"Good; that's the way I want it," he told her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"Me too," Johanna murmured, kissing him once more before extracting herself from his embrace to finish making her cake batter.

"Do you think we'll find the right one today?" Jim asked.

"I hope so; but to be perfectly honest; I already know this one isn't the one I'm searching for," she stated.

Jim looked at her in confusion. "You know this one isn't the cake you're looking for? But you're making it anyway?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want to try it. If you haven't noticed, it's going to be chocolate," she said as she held up the spoon to show him the dark batter.

"I see," he answered. "Is peppermint going to blend well with chocolate?"

"You eat Peppermint Patties; they're chocolate and peppermint," Johanna reminded him.

"Yeah but candy is different; that's a whole other ballgame."

"Well that's true," she agreed. "I guess we'll find out how well it blends after it's finished."

Jim smiled. "I have to admit; I like the idea of a chocolate one."

"I had a feeling you wouldn't mind," she grinned.

"Definitely don't mind testing a chocolate one; it'll be a nice little switch for us."

"True," she said as she poured the batter into the cake pan and then carried it to the oven. She set the timer and then went back to the cupboard and took out another cake mix.

"One down, one to go," Jim quipped.

"See, it's really not so bad," Johanna said. "The last cake will be a white one."

"White?"

"Yes; haven't you heard of white cake?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted; "A lot of times I hear people referring to yellow cake as white cake."

"I know people do that but there are white cakes, honey."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"What's the difference between a yellow cake and a white cake?"

Johanna poured the cake mix into a clean bowl and then sat down at the table. "You've seen me make yellow cakes so you know that when I'm baking one of those I use eggs; the whole egg, right?"

"Yeah."

"Since you use the whole egg in the batter, the yolk gives the cake its yellow tint. With this white cake, you'll notice that I'm going to separate the eggs and only use the whites."

"Oh," Jim said; "No yolk, no yellow tint."

"Right."

"Is that the only difference?"

"No, a yellow cake mix contains all purpose flour; that's the kind of flour you can use for any type of cooking. A white cake uses cake flour."

"Cake flour?" he repeated; watching as she separated the eggs. "I've never heard of that"

"It's not mentioned or used as much as all purpose flour," Johanna explained. "Cake flour is just for baking as the name implies."

"Does white cake taste different than yellow cake?"

"In my opinion, no, not really," she answered. "The taste is very similar; there is a difference in the texture though. The batter for a white cake isn't as thick so when the cake is finished, it's lighter and more airy than a yellow cake."

"I'm looking forward to trying it," Jim said as she measured out other ingredients to add to the mix.

She gave him a teasing grin. "Are you really or are you just trying to suck up because of Betty-Gate?"

"No," he laughed. "I am looking forward to trying it. You're teaching me things I didn't know today."

Johanna scoffed softly. "Oh that's nothing much; just a little kitchen trivia knowledge."

He shook his head. "Don't discount it; you're very smart, Johanna…you teach me things all the time."

"You teach me things too," she murmured. "Like baseball and fishing…and you're trying very hard to teach me how to identify the year of a car by the way it looks."

Jim laughed. "And you're getting better at it; you correctly identified that Mustang today as a 69."

"I'm glad I made you proud," she said with a giggle.

"You always do," he replied sincerely; "And don't forget, I also taught you how to shoot a gun."

"Yes, you did…and it was fun."

"It was," he agreed. "We always have fun together, don't we?"

"Mhmm; even the simplest things can be fun for us."

"That's right…and the comment still stands; you always teach me something new. I'm going to have a very smart wife."

She glanced at him, a coy smile on her lips. "Some men don't look for that quality in their wives."

"Some men aren't me," Jim remarked. "Being smart was one of the most important qualities in my opinion."

"How come?"

"Because I want a wife I enjoy talking to…and I always enjoy talking to you."

Johanna picked up the bowl of finished batter and put it in the fridge while the other cake was baking and then moved toward her fiancé, inviting herself to sit down on his lap. "I know you're my favorite person to talk to," she told him softly.

"I'm glad…and I'm glad you graciously allowed me to rejoin the cake mission."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she replied.

"What are we going to do while waiting for the first cake to finish baking? Are we going to sort out the gifts we bought today?" Jim asked.

Johanna gave a slight shake of her head. "No, I was thinking we might need a break…"

"A break?" he asked, his brow rising, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "What kind of break?"

"I was thinking maybe your favorite kind of break," she remarked, her fingers toying with the top button of his shirt, slipping it free.

"But you said that wasn't going to be happening."

"I was still a little miffed at you then."

"How did I change that?"

"By being the sweet, wonderful man I know you are."

Jim gave her a small smile. "You might have to narrow it down if I'm going to make the behavior a habit."

Johanna laughed softly. "You were listening to me…showing an interest…those things are important to a woman, you know?"

"And that made you forgive me?"

"Yes…you see when you're listening, giving attention and showing an interest in what I'm doing even when it's something you're not overly interested in; it's very attractive."

Jim nodded. "That does it for you, huh?"

"I guess you could say that," she remarked; "But if you'd rather have a different sort of break that's less fun…"

"No, no, no; let's not be hasty," he said. "I like your original idea just fine; and just so you know; I'm filing this information away for future usage. I'm taking notes; I'm going to be a good husband."

"Are you worried that you're not going to be?" Johanna asked.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say that exactly. I just want to be the best husband I can be."

"Well I can assure you that I'm not worried at all about the kind of husband you're going to be. I know for a fact that you're going to be a wonderful husband."

"How can you be so sure?"

Johanna met his gaze and held it. "Because it takes a good man to be a good husband…and you're the best man I know; so I know you're going to be the best husband I could ever imagine."

Jim kissed her, his fingertips brushing softly against the curve of her chin. "And I know I'm going to have the most gorgeous, smart, sweet, perfect wife."

"I don't know about all of that," she said somewhat shyly; "But I promise to always do my best for you."

"I'm not worried," he remarked; his lips brushing against hers softly.

"We should go take that break," Johanna murmured.

"Definitely," he agreed as she got up from his lap, her hand slipping into his as they left the kitchen.

* * *

Later that day, both cakes were finished and iced; the last taste test of the experiment ready to get under way.

"Which cake are we starting with?" Jim asked.

"Let's start with the chocolate one," Johanna replied.

"You used red frosting for it," he remarked as he picked up his fork. "You said you have to be careful with red frostings."

"You do," she answered; "But it's what the recipe called for so we'll see how it goes."

Jim took a bite of the cake, chewing and swallowing without comment; his fork sinking back into it for another bite.

"What do you think?" Johanna asked.

"It's not bad," he replied. "It's not something I'd want a lot of but I kind of like it."

"I can tell; you're taking more than one bite."

He laughed. "Maybe it's because it's chocolate. I notice you haven't taken another bite; don't you like it?"

Johanna shook her head. "No; not really. I don't really care for the icing and I feel like the chocolate overwhelms the small amount of peppermint that's detectable."

"That's a bad thing?" he asked.

"To me," she replied. "I just feel like there isn't a pleasant balance; but honey, if you like it please eat it. We can keep this one and you can pick at it for a few days."

"I might do that," Jim said after swallowing another bite. "Keep the recipe just in case I'd like to have it again; if you wouldn't mind."

"I'll definitely keep it," Johanna told him. "If you want it again sometime, just let me know."

"I will. Are we ready to taste the white one? I'll finish my chocolate piece later."

"I'm ready if you are," she answered; reaching for her glass of soda for a drink before cleaning off her fork.

They both plunged their forks into cake number seven and took a bite. Johanna frowned as she chewed but she said nothing as she glanced across the table at Jim. "What do you think of this one?" she asked.

"Well, for starters, I don't like the little pieces of candy cane in the icing; and I know you only did that because the recipe said to but I don't want my cake to crunch," he remarked.

"Agreed; I prefer sprinkles," Johanna replied. "What about the taste of the icing?"

"It's kind of bland…I would've rather you used the white icing you always make; that's really good."

"That's my mother's pride and joy," she commented; "But I agree, the icing isn't very good. I think it called for too little peppermint in the cake itself too. It's not the one I was looking for."

"I agree with you; but I will say that I do like the difference of the white cake…what did you say it was, the texture?"

"Yeah; you like the texture?"

"I do," Jim replied. "It's a nice change from what I'm used to."

"It is a nice change; I'll have to make white cakes more often," Johanna said; her tone somewhat flat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"That was my last recipe…the end of the mission and we didn't find the cake I wanted."

"I know…and I'm sorry you didn't find it, Jo," he remarked sincerely. "You can't say you didn't try though."

She sighed. "I know; but it's so frustrating; I really wanted my own thing for the holiday and I wanted it to be peppermint cake."

"The chocolate really isn't bad," he stated; "Maybe you could try it again…maybe it could grow on you?"

"No, I don't think so," Johanna answered. "My mission was a failure."

Jim hated to see that look of sadness on her face; he wished he could think of some way to help her find the cake she wanted but he didn't know anyone with a peppermint recipe; even his grandmother hadn't made anything peppermint flavored. "Listen, sweetheart; how about after work tomorrow we go to a few bakeries and see if we can get a few sample pieces of peppermint cake."

"It's not the same…I wanted it to be my own."

"I know, but what if we tried some and you ended up finding one like the one you've been searching for…maybe you'd be able to figure out what's in it…I'm sure you could figure it out if you had your memory refreshed with the taste of the one you remember."

She gave him an indulgent smile; touched that he was willing to continue the mission but what he proposed just wouldn't work. "Honey; I've tried to find that cake…I've been looking for it for a few years and I haven't found it anywhere."

"What if you just haven't stumbled across the right bakery?" he asked. "I'm willing to give it a try."

"I know you are; and that means a lot to me, it really does," Johanna replied; "But I think it's just a lost cause…I baked seven cakes and none of them were the one…not to mention the various cakes I've tried from bakeries over the last few years. That cake is just gone…and I guess I'll have to find something else to make solely mine in the family."

"Maybe you shouldn't give up so easily," Jim stated; "You never do with anything else…you didn't give up on me…and look at us now."

A warm smile spread across her lips. "I'd never give up on you, honey; but it's not quite the same thing. As impossible as it seems; you were a lot easier to handle than finding this elusive cake."

"It's out there," he told her. "We'll find it…we'll go get more recipes."

Johanna gave a soft laugh. "Look at you signing up for more cake baking sessions; what's that all about?"

He met her gaze and held it. "I just want you to have whatever your heart desires…and your heart desires peppermint cake for Christmas. I also can't stand to see that look of disappointment on your face."

"I am disappointed," she admitted; "But I'll get over it."

Jim shook his head. "Don't give up, sweetheart."

"I might not have a choice."

"You do," he said with determination. "You're not a quitter; you'll figure it out…don't give up. Just think about it, okay?"

"Think about what?" she laughed.

"Think about where to find the next recipe or the next bakery to try…the mission isn't over."

Her brow arched. "It isn't?"

"No, it isn't; I have faith in you," Jim told her.

Johanna was pretty sure those words melted her insides. "I do love you, you know?"

"I know," he answered; "And I love you…and I want you to have cake. So just think about it for a day or two and then we'll find a recipe to try and we'll get back in the mission business, okay? Will you at least think about it?"

How could she not keep the matter under consideration when the man she loved looked at her with such faith and love in his eyes? She had to find some way to find that cake if only so she wouldn't let him down…so his faith wasn't misplaced. "Okay; I'll think about it," she agreed; "But I can't promise to find a recipe that we haven't already tried."

"You don't have to promise a lot of results; you just have to promise to try," Jim remarked.

"Okay; I promise to try," Johanna replied sincerely. For him she wouldn't give up this mission…at least not yet; she'd try to think of something.

 _Author's Note: The mission isn't over!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews as always!_

Chapter 7- Peppermint Ponderings

Johanna just couldn't get to sleep that night despite Jim's presence beside her. She was comfortable, warm, and currently being cuddled as her fiancé was snug against her back with his arm wrapped around her. Usually those were her perfect sleeping conditions; along with the TV being on, which she had clicked it back on a half hour before but she was still wide awake…pondering her cake failure. She sighed softly; she had been so hopeful about finding her perfect peppermint cake and the let down of failing after seven cakes was just a little hard to bear.

Oh she knew it was silly to be so disappointed about a cake…but it was more than just a cake to her. To Johanna, finding the perfect recipe, a signature offering all of her own, was something important. Nearly everything she knew how to make was something she had been taught by her mother or grandmother…she loved and cherished those recipes; but both of those women had their one special thing…hell, they had more than one special recipe, she thought to herself, and she had none. It hadn't always bothered her quite so much but this year was different; things were changing, the diamond on her finger spoke volumes about that fact. She wanted her own special recipe; something solely hers to mark her place in the family…something that would help create a new tradition just as she was embarking on a new chapter of her life. She was going to be a wife at some point in the future; she and Jim would be a little family of their own and one day, God willing, there'd be a baby or two, depending on what God wanted them to have. The point though, was that she wanted that one special thing that her own little family would know was hers…and if she could create it with Jim in that warm glow of their new engagement; then it made it all the more special.

But she had failed…seven cakes of failure. What had she done to deserve that kind of punishment?

Johanna sighed; it was most likely a lost cause and yet she didn't want to give up; not when Jim had done so much to encourage her not to…that sincere faith he had in her and the sweet way he wanted her to have exactly what she wanted. She didn't want to let him down…and she didn't want to give up on having her own special holiday recipe.

With that thought in mind, she carefully slipped out from beneath Jim's arm and got up; grabbing her robe from the bottom of the bed and pulling it on as she tiptoed from the room. She quietly made her way to the kitchen and clicked on the light, squinting against the brightness for a moment as she moved to the utility closet at the back of the room. She opened the door and stepped into the small space and reached for the few cookbooks and magazines she had stored on a shelf to the side of the closet.

Johanna carried the books to the table and then went to one of the drawers and pulled out a tablet and a pen. She wasn't sure she'd find any recipes worthy of trying but if she stumbled across any at least she'd be ready to make note of it.

Time passed slowly as she sat at the table and paged through holiday cookbooks, every day cookbooks and the stash of magazines she had that contained holiday recipes. She wasn't having much luck at finding a new miracle recipe she could use. A frown touched her lips as she flipped the glossy magazine pages; nothing was appealing…a few of the recommended recipes were ones she had already tried and knew to be failures. Leave it to her to search for the impossible, she thought to herself. If only that bakery in Brooklyn hadn't closed years ago…but still; buying the cake wouldn't be the same as making it herself. The whole point was to make it in her own kitchen, not buy it from someone else's. Was one little cake recipe really so much to ask for?

Apparently it was, she was mused as she closed the magazine she had been looking through. Johanna sighed; perhaps it was time to contemplate switching ideas for whatever would be her signature baked good. She supposed she could try to find a cookie recipe…her grandmother had biscotti covered; her mother always made sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip…come to think of it, her mother didn't really leave her a lot to work with. Maybe gingerbread? Jim had mentioned that he liked gingerbread…but his grandmother made that and she was sure she couldn't compare to Lilly Beckett's cookies. Besides, she didn't have much experience working with gingerbread.

That pretty much ruled out cookies, she thought to herself. She thought about fudge…her mother made peanut butter fudge…it seemed like Naomi had every corner of the baked good avenue covered. She supposed that she could find a different variety of fudge to make but wrinkled her nose at the thought; peanut butter was the only kind worth having; at least in her opinion.

No on the cookies, no on the fudge…brownies weren't very Christmasy…pie was too ordinary…candy? Johanna contemplated the thought of candy for several moments and then deemed it as too hard and too time consuming; she did have a day job after all. No cookies, no fudge, no brownies, no candy…she sighed once more, it was going to have to be cake, there was just no doubt about it. It couldn't be an ordinary cake; it had to be one that would play into the theme of Christmas. It just had to be peppermint…and yet the perfect peppermint cake was being so damn elusive.

"Jo," a voice said at the doorway of the kitchen, startling her and causing her jerk toward the noise.

"Jim," she murmured. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he said quietly as he entered the room and made his way to the table. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Looking for another recipe to try."

"Sweetheart, it's the middle of the night; we have to work in the morning."

"I know but I couldn't sleep…I hate admitting defeat."

"We agreed that there wasn't any defeat yet; there's still time before the holiday to find a recipe that will work."

"I'm starting to think that we're going to have to admit defeat in this area, honey. The few remaining peppermint recipes I've come across are either the same as the ones I've already tried or very similar to them."

"Maybe you just need more cook books," Jim suggested.

"Maybe so; but I'm not going to go out and buy a horde of them just for one cake recipe."

"Of course not; maybe you can get some from the library," he replied as he picked up a small hardcover book titled 'Betty Crocker's Cook Book for Boys and Girls'. "Hey, I thought you had an issue with Betty," he taunted as he waved the book at her.

"I don't have an issue with Betty…she has very nice cookbooks; I just prefer homemade cake mixes. That's what I was raised on, that's what I was raised to make; it doesn't mean I'm against all things Betty."

"I see; you're just a cake snob" Jim said as he opened the book. Handwriting on the inside cover caught his eye and he couldn't help but read the inscription.

" _To my darling daughter Johanna; some of our best moments are spent together in the kitchen and I want you to know that I cherish them all and that you're learning to be a wonderful cook in your own right every day. I hope you'll enjoy having your very own cookbook; find a recipe you'd like to try and I'll give you free reign to spread your wings in the kitchen for an evening. I love you always. Merry Christmas, Love Mama. December 24, 1961."_

"You got this as a Christmas gift," he stated after reading Naomi's inscription.

"Yeah, I did," she replied softly. "I was ten."

"What did you think of getting a cookbook for Christmas?"

Johanna smiled. "I got other things too but I was thrilled with it…it made me feel like a grown up lady to have my own cookbook."

A smile touched his lips; he didn't have any trouble picturing the look of pride that was probably on her face when she received that book. "Did you pick a recipe to try?" he asked.

"Mhmm; and true to her word, Mama let me make it all on my own."

"Really?"

She nodded. "She stayed in the kitchen with me and kept watch; answered any questions I had and encouraged me when I got a little flustered but I did it, all on my own and we served it for dinner."

"You must've been proud."

"I was; despite Frankie pretending to gag, but Mom smacked him upside his head and he stopped."

Jim laughed. "What did everyone think of your meal?"

"Colleen and Mom liked it. Surprisingly enough, my father praised it," she murmured. "He told me I was a good cook like my mother."

Jim skimmed his knuckle against her cheek. "I know he doesn't really show it but he loves you," he said quietly.

She glanced at him; skepticism in her gaze. "Let's not get into that or I'll never get to sleep tonight."

"You're not going to get to sleep at the kitchen table either," he replied as he laid the book back down.

"I know…but I figured since I wasn't sleeping anyway I may as well get up and see if I could find something that I could use."

"And you haven't come up with a new recipe."

"No," she frowned.

"Then you should come back to bed and try to get some sleep," he gently coaxed. "Maybe a plan will come to you overnight; or we can check the library tomorrow for more cookbooks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Johanna sighed as she got up from the table and began to stack the books to put them away.

Jim helped her gather them up and then carried them to the closet so that she could put them back in their proper place. When she finished, he took her hand and they made their way back through the kitchen; turning off the light as they went.

"What are you doing up?" she asked softly as they moved back toward her bedroom.

"I woke up and noticed you were missing," he replied. "When you didn't return after a few minutes; I figured I better get up and take a look around and see if you were baking another cake."

"What would you have done if I had been?"

"I guess I would've pulled up a chair and tasted it for you," Jim answered as they crossed the threshold of her room.

"Even in the middle of the night you'd eat cake for me?"

Jim gave a nod while rounding the bed to his side. "It's a rough job but someone's got to do it," he quipped lightly.

She smiled as she crawled back into bed. "I appreciate that you've taken on the task, if you shall ever be called upon for middle of the night cake testing."

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he murmured; his arm wrapping around her. "Now try and go to sleep so you're not dragging at work tomorrow. We'll find a solution to your cake dilemma, I promise. There's an answer somewhere and you'll find it…you always do."

Johanna snuggled against him and closed her eyes. "You always have so much faith in me."

"How can I not? I've never seen you fail."

"What if I do fail at something one day?"

"I'll still love you just as much," he told her sincerely.

"I love you too," she whispered.

Jim pressed a kiss against her hair and tightened his hold on her as he closed his eyes, sleep reclaiming him quickly. Johanna laid awake, listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear as she contemplated how to win this challenge that was before her. She couldn't let him down…she couldn't have his faith misplaced. She just had to find the perfect peppermint cake…even if it drove them both crazy in the process.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!_

Chapter 8- Inspired

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Jim asked Johanna as she almost smacked into him in the doorway of the break room early Monday afternoon.

"I was coming to see you," she replied, checking her clothes to make sure no coffee had sloshed out of her mug and on to her.

"Good," he said with a smile as he began to back her back into the room. "I wanted to see you too."

"What about," she asked.

"Important business," he quipped as he took the coffee mug from her hand and sat it on the counter.

Her brow rose. "What kind of business?"

"The business of mistletoe," Jim stated as he positioned her beneath the sprig that was hanging in the room.

Johanna glanced up at the mistletoe and then back to Jim. "Business involving mistletoe, huh? Do you want to sue it? Has there been a breach of contract? Criminal mischief? False advertisement?"

"No, I have no gripes with the mistletoe…although mischief can be a possibility if you want. You're the reason for the business I need to conduct."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm," he replied. "You are in desperate need of being kissed beneath the mistletoe."

"I am?" she laughed.

"Yes; you're nearly delirious with the need."

"Maybe that would explain why I was looking for my pen earlier and then realized I was holding it," Johanna remarked in amusement.

Jim nodded. "That's exactly what the problem is…you've been deprived of one of the season's best traditions. If we don't correct this problem very soon, you might get despondent."

"We wouldn't want that."

"No, we wouldn't…we also don't want to be breaking any Christmas laws by ignoring the bounty of mistletoe available in this building."

"There is quite a bit of it," Johanna remarked with an amused smirk. "But tell me, how did you come to know about this so called desperate need of mine?"

"An elf told me."

"An elf?" she laughed. "You mean that little elf decoration someone sat on one of the stands in the hallway?"

Jim nodded. "He sees all."

"Should we be worried?"

He grinned. "You have no need to worry, sweetheart; I'm here to rescue you from your desperation and to make sure you have enough Christmas cheer to make it through the day."

"Lucky me," she quipped.

"You know it," he remarked before claiming her lips.

Their kiss lingered until she caught his wandering hand. "Not in the office," she told him.

"We're not in the office; we're in the break room."

Johanna smiled. "You know what I meant; anyone can walk in here."

"I don't think I like the direction of this discussion," Jim remarked. "I think I'll close it."

"How are you going to do that?"

"By bestowing more holiday cheer," he answered before kissing her once again.

"Don't you two ever stop," Jeff teased good naturedly as he walked into the room with his coffee mug in hand.

"Only when you're around to interrupt," Jim replied. "Do you have radar or something?"

His friend laughed. "It does seem that way, doesn't it? Maybe I can get a job with Santa; I can tell which houses are safe to hit and which ones he needs to wait for."

"Knowing you, you'd get it backwards," Jim said as Johanna retrieved her cup of coffee.

"Maybe he can be a reindeer like you," Johanna teased. "I already made you Rudolph, Jeff can be Prancer."

"No way, Sassy; I want a cool reindeer name!"

"I think Jeff's more the type to be an elf," Jim stated. "If I have to be Rudolph that should make him Hermy the elf."

Johanna nodded. "I can see that."

Jeff grinned. "Hey, Hermy's a cool elf and way better than being a red nose reindeer who isn't allowed to play reindeer games."

Jim smirked at him. "But Rudolph's a hero…and Hermy's just an elf with a dental fascination."

"Hermy makes toys that make children happy."

"Hermy doesn't like to make toys," Jim replied. "Don't you remember? That's why he ran away and became a misfit with Rudolph."

"Oh yeah…but still, he did pull the snow monster's teeth out so he couldn't eat Rudolph so there."

"Okay!" Johanna exclaimed, holding up a hand. "I think it's clear that we've all seen one too many repeats of Rudolph this early in the holiday season."

"You're right," Jeff said. "Let's pick a different show…Jim can be Charlie Brown and I'll be Linus… Sassy, you can be Lucy."

She smiled. "I like it."

"I don't want to be Charlie Brown," Jim remarked.

"Fine, be Schroeder, Lucy's love muffin."

Johanna almost choked on her coffee. "You're forgetting that it's unrequited love," she reminded him.

Jeff shook his head. "In our version, Lucy gets her man."

"Works for me," she quipped. "Have you got Maggie her Christmas gift yet?"

"No; but I was hoping to bestow a gift on her beneath the mistletoe…but since she isn't in here and this sprig is occupied, I suppose I'll have to corner her somewhere else."

"You won't have to go far to find some more mistletoe…seems like you men have it hung up in every corner of the building."

"We like to be thorough," Jim told her.

"That's right, Sassy; we don't want anyone to be deprived or miss an opportunity."

"I can just imagine what all of our clients think when they walk in here and see all of the mistletoe hanging around," she remarked.

"They think we're festive," Jim replied. "That we have Christmas cheer."

Jeff nodded. "And all of you girls smile like pretty Christmas angels after you've been kissed under the mistletoe; that has to look good to clients knowing the women here are bright, happy and angelic."

"And surrounded by a bunch of naughty little boys," Johanna teased.

"You mean me and Jim made the naughty list again?!"

"That's the rumor."

"I refuse to believe it," Jim replied. "I know for a fact that I've been a very good boy this year."

"Me too," Jeff remarked. "She's just trying to get us on the list so she can have more gifts for herself."

"I believe that," he agreed.

"Shame on you, Sassy."

Johanna smirked at them. "Hey, my place on the good list has been secured; my gifts are in the bag."

"I don't know," Jeff said. "You might suffer guilt by association in regard to Jim."

"I'm not worried."

"Where are the candy canes?" Jim asked as he looked at the bowl that held some that morning.

"They're gone," Johanna replied.

"Damn it," Jeff exclaimed. "I not only wanted to brighten Maggie's day under the mistletoe, I wanted a candy cane."

"Sorry," she told him.

Jim eyed her. "Did you get a candy cane?"

"Do I look like I have a candy cane?"

His gaze roamed over her. "I like those pants you're wearing," he said, giving a nod at her black dress pants.

"Thank you; I didn't feel like freezing my legs today."

He smiled. "I miss the view of your legs but they show off another nice view from what I could tell this morning when I was walking behind you."

"Should I leave?" Jeff asked.

"No, stay," Jim told him. "We're getting to the good part."

Johanna eyed him. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing at all, sweetheart," he said as he stepped closer to her. "I just notice that these cute little pants of yours have pockets."

Her chin jutted up a notch. "What of it?"

"What do you have in your pockets?"

"Nothing."

"Empty them."

Johanna gave him an affronted look. "I will not!"

"Come on; show us."

"No; I have no reason to prove that my pockets are empty."

"I know you," Jim replied. "You're a candy cane hoarder."

"I am not."

"Then you won't mind if I look," he said as he stuck his hand in one of her pockets.

"I hope you have a warrant for this search because I didn't give consent."

"Probable cause," Jeff announced. "Past history as a candy cane hoarder; the search is legal. Go ahead, Jim; search her."

The first pocket turned up nothing and Johanna smirked at him. "Told you so."

"Don't go getting sassy," Jim replied. "We still have this other pocket."

Johanna tried not to squirm as his hand slipped into her pocket and curled around the two candy canes she had been hiding there. "Oh, what's this?" he said as he pulled the peppermint candy from her pocket. "Look here, Jeff; I found two candy canes."

"Shame on you, Sassy; hoarding candy canes and lying; you're going on the naughty list with us…we better get you some help," Jeff replied.

"You're right," Jim stated. "Let's help her by eating these candy canes."

"Sounds like the perfect course of action," his friend agreed as he took a candy cane from Jim's hand while Johanna tried to snatch them back. "One of those is for Sharon!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry about her bad luck," Jim said. "Besides; I saw her with one this morning…you two are being stingy this year."

"Maybe that's because you all ate all of them last year and we didn't get any," she retorted.

"Looks like you're not getting any this year too," Jeff replied as he peeled off the plastic and licked the candy.

"One day I shall have my revenge on both of you," Johanna told him.

"You've got plenty of candy canes at home," Jim remarked. "Why don't you pawn one of those cakes off on Jeff?"

"You have cake?" their friend asked. "Are you holding out on me?"

"I have a lot of cake," Johanna replied. "Stop by tonight and pick one out."

"Maggie and I will stop on our way home from dinner…don't spit on it or anything."

"Of course not; I wouldn't do that to Maggie," she replied.

"But you'd do it to me? Your honorary brother?"

"It's a temptation I've learned to live with."

Jeff grinned at her. "You know you love me. Doesn't she, Jim?"

"Not as much as she loves me."

Jeff laughed and moved toward them. "Since you're still under the mistletoe I better not break the tradition," he said as he pressed a quick kiss to Johanna's cheek.

"Thank you so much for holding with tradition," she replied. "I would've been devastated if you hadn't."

"I know; I couldn't bear the thought of you crying at your desk about it," Jeff teased. "Are you going to return the favor?" he asked, turning his cheek to her and pointing at it. "Go on; give me some sugar, as my grandmother always says."

Johanna laughed and kissed his cheek. "I don't know how Maggie manages with you."

He grinned. "She finds me delightful; now that I have my candy cane, and warmed up my pucker for mistletoe mischief; I'll get my coffee and leave you two to your shenanigans."

"That's nice of you," Jim told him. "Just for that I might buy you an extra Christmas gift."

"Make it a good one," Jeff replied as he poured his coffee.

"We'll see."

After Jeff was gone, Johanna turned to Jim. "I can't believe you robbed me off my candy canes."

"I had to teach you a lesson," he laughed as he broke his in half. "Here, have a piece."

"You're still a candy cane murderer…so much for your Christmas spirit."

"I can give you more spirit; you're still under the mistletoe."

"Forget it; I'm ready to discuss my business now."

"Alright," he said with a grin, his hand slipping around her waist. "Let's have it."

"Not that kind, Romeo," she replied. "I want to talk about the cakes."

"The ones we don't like? Or your declaration this morning as you stared at those boxed up cakes that the mission was over?"

Johanna shook her head. "The experiment is back on."

"You found an eighth recipe?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "During my free time today I've been going over the recipes; I made notes about what we didn't like about each one…so I'm thinking if I take the things we did like from the various recipes and combine them, create my own icing and forgo their versions, we'll end up with the perfect cake."

"I don't know," he said skeptically.

"Come on," she said softly as she reached out and caught hold of his suit jacket. "You can try one more little cake for me, can't you? You did tell me not to give up."

"I know," he grinned; "But despite my encouragement I have to ask, what's in it for me?"

"My undying gratitude," she replied, pressing herself closer to him. "And this…"

"What?"

Johanna caught his lips in a searing kiss. "A mistletoe kiss you were in desperate need of," she remarked saucily when they came up for air; "And maybe a little something more at home if you come along peacefully."

Jim smiled. "When do we bake?"

"After dinner tonight at my place…I have chicken thawed out."

He stole another kiss. "I love you."

She giggled. "I love you too…and I promise, I'll make this cake the last one of the peppermint experiment. If I fail for the eighth time, I'll consider it a lost cause."

"Deal," he replied. "I better get back to my office, are you ready to go; I'll walk you back to yours."

"I'm ready," she replied as she slipped her hand in his. "Did you call Andrew and ask if he wanted a cake?"

"He'll take two; I'll take them to him tomorrow."

"Good; Frankie's going to take one too…and Jeff. That's four cakes claimed, one went in the garbage and you seem to be picking at cake six since its chocolate…what are we going to do with cake seven?"

"I say we call it a loss and throw it out," Jim remarked. "Maybe the eighth time will be the charm for you, sweetheart."

"I hope so…I really wanted to find the right one."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "We'll find it…it might just take some time…and trial and error."

"You still sound like you're signing up for future cake tasting sessions," Johanna remarked.

"I am…I did propose after all; and that means as your husband, I will be your willing guinea pig."

She smiled brightly. "I really do love you, you know?"

"I know," he said, dipping his head to kiss her quickly as they paused in front of her office. "I'll see you for the drive home, sweetheart."

Johanna gripped his hand for a moment before releasing it. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

Late that afternoon after work, Jim pulled into the parking lot of the market and found a parking spot.

"Okay, listen," Johanna said as she shifted in her seat to face Jim. "I don't want any flack for this."

"I wasn't going to give you flack for needing more ingredients; we used all the stuff we bought."

"That's not what I meant."

Jim's brow furrowed in confusion. "Then what are you afraid I'm going to give you flack for?"

"For what I'm going to do in here," she remarked.

"You aren't going to shoplift to avoid the line, are you? Because I have to say, if it's a really long line; I'm totally with you on that."

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. "I don't want God striking me down!"

"Oh look, you are a Catholic," he chuckled.

She smirked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Catholics worry about getting struck down more than other people."

"Hey, I never claimed to be a good Catholic; in fact I've already broken some rules with the pre-martial sex and birth control pills and low church attendance. I don't want to push my luck too far."

"Understood," he laughed. "So what exactly is it that you don't want me to give you flack about?"

"In my recipe I've decided to use a white cake mix instead of the standard yellow…but I already used the only white mix I had. Since it's going to be mid-evening before things get accomplished, I'm going to buy a boxed white cake mix and before you say a word about it, I still prefer homemade and you'll never convince me that homemade isn't better. It means nothing that I'm buying boxed mix; I'm just saving some time tonight. I don't want any flack."

Jim nodded. "There will be no flack; I appreciate your time saving methods."

She eyed him. "Do you promise?"

"Scouts honor?"

"Does it still count when the scout was dishonorably discharged?"

Jim smiled. "We'll save time and say it does," he said as he unlocked his car door. "Let's get in there and get what you need and get home. You are going to cook dinner first aren't you?"

"Yes, honey, I'm going to cook dinner first. You're not the only one who gets hungry; I'm hungry too."

"Just checking," he remarked as they got out of the car.

"I'm going to make this trip quick and painless," Johanna declared while slipping her hand into his. "I've got a list; if we work together we can be done in no time since I only need a few things."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'll get the baking stuff I need and you can grab the eggs…and a small bag of potatoes to go with our dinner tonight."

"Eggs and potatoes; got it," he replied. "I get the easy part of the list."

"See, I'm accommodating," Johanna quipped.

Jim raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. "You're always accommodating…but I still appreciate getting the easy list."

"I promise to always give you the easy list."

He gave her a grin. "You're such a good wife in training."

Johanna gave him a sassy wink as she grabbed a cart. "Don't you forget it."

* * *

That evening after dinner had been eaten and cleaned up and the rejected cakes had been dealt with, Johanna once again took her mixing bowls down from the cupboard. She carried them to the table and sat them down before going back to retrieve her cake pan.

"Round eight is set to begin," Jim quipped from his seat at the table while she gathered the ingredients she'd need.

"Well, honey; you did sign up for another round; you encouraged it," Johanna reminded him.

"I know and I'm ready for it," he answered. "But if it doesn't work out, can we have a day or two before round nine…I don't want to get sick of cake…and don't take that the wrong way."

She smiled. "I know what you meant. There won't be a round nine if I can help it," she declared as she picked up the box of cake mix and read the back. "Can you make sure I set the oven on 350?"

"I can do that," he said as he got up from his chair and moved to the stove. "It's set right, sweetheart."

"Thank you," she replied while dumping the mix in the bowl.

"What made you decide to go with a white cake?" he asked; knowing better than to tease about her usage of a boxed mix.

Johanna shrugged. "I just figured since we both seemed to enjoy the different texture of the white cake that we'd try it. Maybe a lighter cake will go better with the flavoring."

Jim watched her as she separated the eggs to put the whites in the cake mix. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you come up with this recipe?"

"I told you, I made notes about the recipes we didn't like. Based on the notes I made, I know how much peppermint is too much and how much is too little. With those measurements in mind, I'm aiming for somewhere in between."

"What about the icing?"

"That's the tricky part," she replied. "I'm going to use my mother's white icing…which kind of defeats my idea of something totally mine but I am going to add the slightest hint of peppermint to it for flavoring and hope that it meshes well. Overall though I'm keeping the recipe simple unlike some we've tried."

"Maybe simple is the best way to go; maybe it'll make a difference," Jim remarked.

"I hope so," Johanna sighed while carefully measuring out the peppermint for the mix.

They grew quiet as she tended to the batter and then poured it into the cake pan. She carried it to the stove and slid it into the oven, closing the door with a slight plea to the baking gods that this be the cake she was searching for.

"Well," she said quietly as she sat the timer; "Now we wait."

"Maybe if we don't think too much about it it'll turn out better," Jim suggested.

"I'm willing to give it a try; let's go watch TV."

"What about the icing; aren't you going to mix it up first?"

Johanna shook her head. "I'm going to wait and do it while the cake is cooling, then it won't set as long. I don't know if it'll make a difference but I don't want to leave it to chance."

Jim gave a nod. "We're being cautious with cake eight."

"Right," she replied; "Now let's try to forget about cake eight until it's finished…we might be tempting fate if we try to think too positively about it like you insinuated."

"Stranger things have happened," he said as he got up from the table and followed her into the living room.

They settled down together on the sofa and Johanna slid toward him, snuggling close to his side. "I've been looking forward to this all day," she murmured as his arm went around her.

"Oh yeah? Did you have a tough day?"

"No; I just miss you," she replied; "And I know, I see you at work but it isn't the same…sometimes I just can't wait to come home and be with you and not worry about anything else."

"I know the feeling," he told her, his lips skimming against her temple. "I'm always happy to come home to you too."

"That's going to be the best thing about being married," Johanna said softly. "We'll always be coming home together."

"That's right and I'm looking forward to it."

Johanna smiled at him. "Last year at this time we weren't even together officially…I never thought for a minute that I'd be engaged by this Christmas…I wasn't even sure if we'd be dating by now," she said with a laugh.

He chuckled. "It surprised me too, sweetheart…we've been through a lot this year."

She nodded. "Yeah; we have been…but it's made us stronger."

"It has; and now we're where we need to be," Jim remarked as he angled his head to kiss her.

"I'm so glad," Johanna whispered. "You didn't lie when you told me I could still believe in fairy tales."

He smiled. "I'm no prince."

"You are to me," she declared. "You're my Prince Charming and I won't hear any argument about it."

Jim laughed softly. "Alright, sweetheart; I guess it's fitting; after all, you're my Queen."

"Shouldn't it be Princess if you're Prince Charming?"

"No; that's what my mother calls you; you're my Queen."

"Since your mother stole the other name, Queen does sound better."

"I knew you'd see it my way," he laughed.

"Are you still going to tell her about our engagement on Christmas?"

"Oh yeah," Jim said with a wide smile. "I'm going to take my camera so I can take pictures for you because I don't want you to have to try and conjure up the images in your mind; I want you to see them for yourself while remaining safely at your mother's out of range."

"I guess it's a good thing you got that Polaroid camera," she laughed.

He nodded. "I had no idea how handy it would be. I have to admit; I'm so excited for this Christmas just because I get to give her the news; I'm anticipating it, planning it, reveling in the knowledge of it."

Johanna giggled. "I feel like I should feel a little offended that our engagement news is going to cause you such glee when your mother explodes but oddly enough, I can't wait to see the pictures."

"You will have pictures, sweetheart; mark my words; the occasion will be memorialized."

"It's like you're a kid waiting on the must have toy of the season to be put under your tree," Johanna quipped.

"That's exactly what it feels like," he laughed; "But I have to say; you were my must have item of the season, and I got you; so that's the most important thing…besides the fun of telling my mother."

Johanna kissed him. "You're my must have item of the season too, honey; and I'm glad we've got each other."

He tightened his hold on her as silence fell between them, their attention settling upon the TV. She wrapped her arm around his midsection as she laid her head against his shoulder, breathing in his sent. She couldn't imagine anything better than being there with him. No other gift could compare.

* * *

Awhile later, the cake was finished, cooled and freshly iced. Jim and Johanna each grabbed a drink from the fridge and then moved back to the table, their eighth taste test about to begin. Johanna sighed as she stared at the cake with its white icing and red and green sprinkles, having a feeling in the pit of her stomach that this would be another failure for the books.

"Are we having a moment of silence?" Jim asked as he waited for her to slice the cake.

"No; I was just thinking that it's probably another failure," she answered.

"Hey; don't go thinking that way just yet," he replied. "It looks good; it smells good…that's two of the three requirements already. I think it looks like a winner."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"We'll never know unless you slice it so we can find out."

Johanna eyed the cake warily. "You slice it this time; I sliced the other seven."

"And you think it'll make a difference if I do it?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Stranger things have happened; so I've been told," she quipped sassily.

He grinned as he picked up the knife. "Since I don't want to be proven wrong; I'll take the job."

"Please do."

Jim sliced into the cake and laid a piece on each plate. "Ready?" he asked her.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"Then let's get to it."

Johanna took a breath and sunk her fork into the cake and brought a bite to her lips. As the flavor touched her tongue, she closed her eyes and smiled. It was almost exactly the way she remembered. It wasn't a perfect replica of the taste she recalled from childhood but it was close enough; so very close and absolutely satisfying. She forced her eyes open to glance across the table at Jim. "Well?" she asked; hopefulness in her voice and lighting up her eyes.

Jim smiled. "I like it; it's good."

"Really? You're not just saying that so I won't feel bad?"

"No, sweetheart; I wouldn't lie to you about this. I really do like it; it's the best one we've tried. You can taste the peppermint but it's not overwhelming, the icing is good, not too sweet but also not bland. I think it's great," he said as he sunk his fork back into the cake for another bite. "What do you think of it?"

A smile spread across her lips. "It's almost exactly like the one I remembered."

"Is it?" he asked.

"Yes; the icing is different but the flavor of the cake itself is like I remember."

A wide grin spread across his face. "I told you that you could do it, sweetheart. I knew you'd find a way; see, I told you we'd find it."

"I can't believe it," she murmured as she took another bite. "It's actually good…so very good."

"It just took the right recipe," he remarked; "And apparently it needed to be written by you. Send it in to all those magazines that the sucky ones came from and tell them this is how it's done."

"No way!"

"Why not?"

"Because the world at large isn't getting my recipe! This is my signature holiday baked good; it's mine…well, really, it's ours."

"It's yours," Jim stated. "All I did was drive you to the market and partake in the testing."

"Those are very important involvements."

"Maybe so but you're right; you shouldn't share it with the world. Keep it all to yourself; you worked hard for it."

A smile remained on her lips. "I can't believe we finally found it; I really didn't think it was going to happen."

"I knew it would," he said with conviction. "I believed in you."

"That's the only reason why I tried again," Johanna confessed. "I did it because you said you knew I could."

"And I was right," he replied.

"Don't gloat too much," she laughed.

"I'll try to control myself," Jim said with a grin. "You know, a perfect cake needs a good name. What are you going to call it?"

Johanna thought about it for a long moment and then smiled. "Well, I think I'll borrow a phrase from you and call it 'Peppermint Bliss Cake'; what do you think?"

"I love it," he laughed. "That's the perfect name for it."

"I think so too; it's our special Christmas cake."

Jim caught her gaze. "Do you promise to make it for me every Christmas when we're married?"

She nodded. "I promise to make it every Christmas…it'll be our tradition."

"I'm looking forward to having traditions with you," he said warmly.

"Me too," she murmured; "And you know, with cake eight being a success; it means we suddenly have a special occasion on our hands."

"Oh?" he asked; his brow rising inquisitively.

"Mhmm…we're going to need to celebrate."

A hopeful gleam lit up his eyes. "In what manner?"

She rose from her place and rounded the table to sit on his lap, her fingers grazing against his jaw as she stole a kiss. "I think we'll have to celebrate in your most favorite way…I hope you don't have to be in court in the morning…you might not get to sleep until late."

A wide grin spread across his lips. "Don't you worry, sweetheart; I don't have any court appearances tomorrow and I can drink plenty of coffee to stay awake at my desk; we shall celebrate to your heart's content."

Johanna kissed him once more. "Then I say we finish the cake on our plates and then go get started on that very important celebration of the creation of our very first holiday tradition together."

"That's a good plan," he stated as he stole one more kiss. "Let's take care of this cake quickly and move on to the celebration."

Instead of removing herself from his lap, Johanna wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For going along with this crazy endeavor of mine…for being my partner in crime…or rather, cake crime," she said lightly.

Jim wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Anytime, sweetheart; anytime."

She pressed another kiss to his lips and then moved back to her chair to finish her slice of Peppermint Bliss Cake, feeling like it was going to be one of those extra special Christmases...all because of the man who loved her. She smiled; she wouldn't want it any other way.

 _Author's Note: Two more chapters; Jim has a little gift for Johanna in the next one and chapter ten will be an epilogue that takes a little jump into the future ;)_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews!_

Chapter 9 – A Season of Bliss

"What are you doing here?" Johanna asked Tuesday evening as she walked into her kitchen and found Jim eating a piece of peppermint cake.

"I wanted cake," he replied. "How was dinner with your sister?"

"Good; we're going shopping this weekend."

"I thought you were doing Christmas shopping with me!" he exclaimed.

"I am doing some shopping with you," she said with a laugh as she paused at his side and kissed his cheek. "But I can't shop for you if you're with me. Colleen and I are doing husband and fiancé shopping together."

Jim smiled. "In that case I highly approve of that endeavor and I'm glad you enjoyed your 'sisters' evening as you called it."

She squeezed his shoulder before moving to the fridge to grab a soda. "Is the cake still good?"

"Delicious," he remarked as he picked up another forkful. "Are you going to hold to your promise to make it every Christmas for me?"

"Of course…and you know what makes it special?"

"That it's your own unique recipe?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head; "Although I am proud of it."

"Then what makes it special?" Jim asked.

"It's special because I created that recipe with you…it's ours, like our song, and our seashells…you know what I mean?"

He nodded, a smile touching his lips. "I know what you mean…and I have some early presents for you…in celebration of finding your perfect Peppermint Bliss Cake."

"Oh?" she said after taking a sip of her soda. "What?"

"First, there's this," Jim said as he reached down and plucked something from the gift bag he had kept hidden from her view.

Johanna smiled as she accepted the bouquet of candy canes tied in red ribbon that Jim held out to her. "I was under the impression that you thought I had too many candy canes."

He shook his head. "These are different…I've been giving you those ever since the first Christmas we've known each other."

"I remember," she said softly as she moved to his side and leaned down to kiss him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied as he reached down and picked up a gift bag and handed it to her. "Here's the rest."

Johanna sat the bag on the table and pushed aside the green tissue paper inside and pulled out a red silk robe. "Oh it's beautiful," she said with a smile. "I love it."

"There's more," he told her, gesturing to the bag with his fork, a wicked grin on his lips.

She eyed him suspiciously and reached back into the bag, pulling out a filmy, white silk nightgown that had a print decoration of tiny little candy canes. "Cute," she said with a laugh. "You never miss an opportunity to make fun of my love of candy canes."

"I'm not making fun of you," he laughed. "I saw that and thought it would be a nice little holiday wardrobe item for you."

She gave a short laugh; the print on the nightgown was small and it was tasteful…pretty even, she thought to herself; and it was Christmassy. "I like it."

"I'm glad; I picked that out especially for you, you know."

"I know," she remarked as she folded both items. "I'm surprised it's not underwear."

Jim's grinned widened. "Look in the bag."

"I don't think I want to."

"You do," he assured. "Go ahead."

Johanna reached into the bag and pulled out a small pair of white lace trimmed panties decorated with the same candy cane print. "I should've known," she quipped.

"I know how much you like to match," Jim told her.

She couldn't help but laugh. "You're just so proud of yourself, aren't you?"

He nodded. "You'll look adorable in those."

"What I wouldn't have gave to see you shopping in the lingerie aisle," she replied as she looked at the panties. "You even got the right size."

"Of course I did; I know what size you wear…and the shopping wasn't as bad as I thought it would be…there were other hopeful looking men there."

"Oh I'm sure there were," she replied; "But what made you take on the mission of finding candy cane apparel?"

"I was out shopping for your other gifts. I saw the nightgown hanging on a rack, and then the robe…and then the panties. I figured it was time I bought you something highly personal without you along as a chaperone."

"Is that right?"

"Yes," he remarked; "Because really, it's a gift for both of us."

"Like I didn't see that coming," Johanna quipped.

He smiled. "I gave them to you early so we could both enjoy a little early holiday magic."

She couldn't resist allowing the words that formed on her tongue to slip past her lips. "So they're magical panties?"

"Only when you wear them," he remarked. "You'll be amazed at what happens when you do."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart; you'll enjoy it…we'll have all the Christmas cheer you can hope for. Why don't you go put all of that on while I finish my cake and then we'll see what kind of holiday mischief we can get into?"

A sassy smile curved her lips upwards. "Now why would I want to do that?"

"Because, sweetheart; you have your peppermint bliss, and now I'll have mine," he said, reaching for her and giving her a loving pat.

A blush spread across her cheeks. "I was right, you're incorrigible."

"But you like it," Jim replied, tugging her down on his lap. "I'm only helping you keep your word; Peppermint Bliss every Christmas, all Christmas long."

Johanna giggled as she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Well, I do pride myself on being a woman of my word…and I probably should try on these very thoughtful gifts and make sure they fit…and that they look the way you hope."

"Yes; we should give them a test run...I don't want to have to make any returns."

"I don't think you have to worry about looking for your receipt," she said as she rose from his lap. "I think it's going to turn out just fine…just like the cake."

"We're a good team," he remarked.

"Yeah; we are," she smiled, leaning down to kiss his again. "Merry Christmas, Jim."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart…now go on; we need to be blissful and we can't do that until you're properly attired in your holiday fare."

"Yes, dear," she replied with a laugh as she carried her gifts from the room; she was looking forward to a lifetime of blissful holidays with him.

 _Authors Note: One chapter left; an epilogue that has a little glimpse into the future ;)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews and support of this little fluffy holiday piece; I appreciate those of you who always go along for the ride with me. I know when I started reworking Redemption that I lost a lot of readers because I chose to focus on Johanna for that story and several others, so I just want those of you who have remained or who gave it a chance and decided to stay with me and Jo to know how much I appreciate each of you and love hearing from you. I hope you all have a wonderful new year._

Chapter 10- Epilogue -Bliss

Mid-December 1979

The clock on the microwave read 2:30 am as Johanna mixed up the cake batter in her mixing bowl. She sighed a little; her gaze moving to the carrier she had sitting on the table, her month old baby nestled inside, wrapped in receiving blankets with her favorite pacifier in her mouth…and she was still wide awake.

"Aren't you getting the least little bit sleepy, Katie?" Johanna asked her daughter.

Her baby's eyes remained focused on her, not a hint of sleepiness in sight. "It's getting really late," she told her. "I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to doze off while this cake bakes."

The baby blinked but kept her gaze focused on her. "Aren't you bored watching me bake a cake?" Johanna asked her. "Daddy gets bored when I bake cakes."

Her daughter mewed softly but showed no signs of distress or sleepiness. Another sigh crossed Johanna's lips as she poured the batter into the cake pan. "I don't know about you but I'm sleepy."

She carried the cake pan to the stove and slid it into the oven, double checking the temperature she had set before setting the timer. She moved back to the table and began to clean up the mess that was in the small area of work space she had used while her infant watched quietly. What was she going to do? How was she going to get that child to sleep? Not that she ever seemed to sleep much at night but tonight was just worse than usual…of course she had a feeling that was her fault.

"I guess I shouldn't have left you home with Daddy this evening," Johanna remarked as she scooped up her baby and cradled her. "Daddy let you sleep the whole time I was out so he wouldn't have to worry about tending to you…and knowing him, he turned off the phone, had the TV down just low enough so he could hear it and didn't move a muscle so that your slumber wouldn't be disturbed. Am I right?"

Katie smiled, her pacifier slipping from her lips. "That's what I thought," Johanna said as she hurriedly grabbed the pacifier before it hit the floor. "I know how Daddy operates; he let you sleep all evening, being careful not to wake you and now we get to be up all night while he's upstairs asleep in that nice comfy bed…doesn't seem fair, does it?"

The baby snuggled against her and she hoped that was a sign that maybe she wanted to go to sleep. "I know what you're thinking," she went on softly. "You're thinking 'Mommy, if you're not all that pleased with Daddy's behavior tonight, why are you baking him a cake?"

Katie began to fuss for her pacifier and Johanna slipped it back into her mouth. "The answer to the question I'm sure you're thinking is simple. I promised Daddy I'd make him that cake every year."

Johanna began to slowly pace the floor with the baby, hoping to lull her as she talked softly. "You see Daddy asked me to marry him a few weeks before Christmas and I was so happy. It was our first Christmas as an official couple and we were engaged…everything was changing and seemed brand new. I wanted to find something special so we'd have our own tradition. I remembered having Peppermint Cake when I was a little girl and I'd been wanting that cake for a long time. Daddy and I made eight cakes before we finally found the right one and he liked it so much that he asked me to promise to make it for him every year."

She quietly paced for awhile, the memory of their peppermint cake mission swirling through her mind. That had been the Christmas of 1976…it had been three years…in some ways it seemed like yesterday; in others it seemed longer than that length of time; not in a bad way of course; but just because so much had happened in those three years. They had gotten married, made it through all the milestones of their first year as a married couple…and by the time their second anniversary came along, she had been pregnant…they bought a house and then, five days before Thanksgiving, their daughter had made her overdue arrival. She smiled down at the bundle in her arms; she was a month old the day before…it was hard to believe it had been a month already. Everything seemed to be moving at warped speed ever since they came home from the hospital. She wondered if that was due to the lack of sleep and the constant movement that a newborn seemed to inspire or create as she always found herself on the go, making bottles, fetching more diapers, changing clothes, trying to find the bottom of that stack of laundry that just wouldn't stop growing for a moment to allow her to catch up.

She was exhausted, no doubt about that; exhausted, frazzled, sometimes on edge when things got frustrating and sometimes she was weepy, from joy or sleep deprivation, sometimes she wasn't sure. But she loved her baby…loved her so very much that every sleepless night was worth it. Being a mommy was a new form of bliss despite the things she hadn't been overly warned about; like that lack of sleep her brain kept reminding her of and the fact that her husband would fear a crying newborn and head for the nearest exit and the fact that juggling house and baby was a lot harder than expected…and she didn't even want to think about how it would be when she eventually went back to work. A sigh crossed her lips; motherhood had some side effects…but that feeling of bliss returned every time she looked at that little face.

That little face and that feeling of bliss was why she was baking that cake for her husband, despite his minor downfalls the last few weeks…that she was being very patient about; but she had her bliss in the form of a loving husband, a beautiful baby girl and a nice warm home; it was only fair that he get his Peppermint Bliss Cake. She had promised after all…and he had kept his promises by marrying her, giving her a baby and a house of her own. She wouldn't allow her promises to fall by the wayside just because she was sometimes overwhelmed with her new role as a mommy.

Katie squirmed in her arms and Johanna looked down at her, hoping to see signs of sleepiness but her daughter was stubbornly still wide awake. "If you don't get to sleep soon, you're going to think that you can sleep all day tomorrow and then be up again all night," she told her. "We can't have that sweetheart; you'll have your days and nights mixed up…and according to Grandma, you already do because that's how babies your age are but we don't want to make it worse. That's why Mommy has been trying to keep you awake a little bit in the evenings."

Katie gave a soft huff and she laughed softly. "You're not the boss here, missy; I am…although you have been doing a good job at trying to run the show but mommy's holding on to a thread of the control. By the way, when I said Grandma, I meant Grandma Naomi."

The baby kept her gaze focused on her as if she was listening intently to every word that was being spoken. Maybe conversation was too stimulating, Johanna thought as she began to softly hum a lullaby. The humming didn't work…nor did softly singing…the walking the floor wasn't working either but Johanna figured at least she could count that as a form of exercise. "Come on sweetheart; you need to sleep," she whispered in desperation. "Mommy is so tired; please, just a couple of hours? How about we finish the cake and then you go to bed? Okay?"

Johanna swore that the baby moved her head just enough to make it look like she had shook it 'no' and she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if her daughter meant to stay awake until dawn. In fact she was almost sure of it; Katie usually wanted a bottle between 4:30 and 5.

The timer on the oven went off, startling her a little and causing her to tighten her hold on the baby, making Katie fuss a bit as she was startled too. "Sorry, baby," she murmured, quickly moving to the stove to turn off the timer before she crossed the room to lay Katie back in her baby seat.

She tended to the cake; carefully releasing it from the pan and onto the cake plate so that it would cool. She grabbed what she needed to make the icing and moved back to the table to complete the task. Johanna worked in silence, hoping that the lack of noise might signal to her baby that it was bedtime…but she doubted it would matter; after all she had the lights in the kitchen dimmed so much it was like working by a nightlight and it hadn't helped lull her baby either. She glanced at Katie as she mixed the ingredients and saw the light fixture above the table had grabbed her daughter's attention. It was too bad it wasn't a mobile; maybe that would have lulled her.

Before long the cake was cooled and iced and Johanna still had a wide awake baby staring back at her. She frowned. "You hate me, don't you?" she asked. The baby smiled, her pacifier falling into the seat with her. "It's not nice to be mean to your mother," Johanna told her. "Do you know how much it hurt when you came out? Let me tell you, it didn't feel good…I sometimes worry that I might never be the same again. Speaking of pain, let's back it up to the labor; do you know how long I was in labor before you made up your mind to come out? Well do you?" she asked.

Katie stared at her and she swore she had the same twinkle of amusement in her eyes that Jim often had in his. She couldn't help but smirk a little. "22 hours little miss…22 very long painful hours…and you won't even go to bed when you're supposed to. I think we're pretty good to you; we bought this house for you; I bought you a very nice wardrobe, I bought booties for you even before you were conceived. You have a beautiful nursery, toys that you can't even play with yet; you're fed, dry and happy…you just don't like to sleep for some reason. Why don't you like to sleep? Mommy likes sleep…at least what she remembers of it."

"Jo," a sleep tinged voice said from behind her. "What are you doing up?"

Johanna turned in her chair to face her husband, her brow arched. "Gee, I can't imagine why I might be up in the middle of the night; I only have a month old baby and a husband who let her sleep all evening so now she's bright eyed and bushy tailed…while you lay up there in that nice warm queen size bed sleeping peacefully."

"Am I sensing sarcasm or hostility?" Jim asked as he moved further into the kitchen.

"Both."

"Great, it'll remind me of the fun we had while you were in labor," he quipped as he moved to the table and kissed his daughter's head. "You're getting me in trouble with mommy, go to sleep."

Johanna gave a humorless laugh. "If only it was that easy."

"I don't know what you wanted me to do," he stated.

"I didn't want you to put her to sleep two minutes after I left."

He shrugged. "She looked sleepy."

"She just got up!"

"Hey; I didn't want you to go anyway," Jim retorted.

"Yes, I know," she replied; "But I figured if we wanted our daughter to have some gifts for Christmas I better go take care of it. You just wanted to make sure she wouldn't cry while I was out."

"I can't deny that."

"Yeah; well your selfishness means I get to set up all night, thank you."

"It's not selfish," he stated; "And she's up all night anyway so what's the difference?"

"The difference is that I can usually sleep a little between feedings. You know I've been trying to keep her awake a little in the evenings; Mom said it would help her sleep a little more at night."

He laughed. "Yeah, well my mother said that's malarkey; she isn't going to sleep at night until she's good and damn ready."

Johanna shook her head, a sudden wave of weepiness washing over her. "Whatever," she muttered. "Go back to bed, we're fine."

The change in her tone and the lowering of her gaze chastened him, especially as he saw the tale tell signs that tears weren't far away. He searched desperately for something to change the subject and then his eyes spied the cake. "You made the Peppermint Bliss cake," he stated.

"Yeah, I did."

He smiled a little. "Introducing Katie to middle of the night baking at a young age, are you?"

"There wasn't much else for us to do. I was hoping to bore her to sleep; cake baking often bores you."

"But she takes after you more than me," he replied; frowning as she still wasn't looking at him. "I'm kind of surprised you made it this year…I didn't think you'd have time."

"Why do you think I made it at this time of night?" Johanna asked. "Besides; I promised."

"Yeah; but I would've understood if you didn't this year."

"You've kept all your promises to me; it's only fair I keep mine."

"You're tired though," Jim said quietly.

She shrugged. "Being tired doesn't change the fact that I love you."

"I love you too," he murmured, his fingers brushing her hair back so that he could see her face. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"It's okay; like you said, she's up anyway and your mother's probably right, it won't matter what I do; I guess it was just wishful thinking that something might help."

Somehow his wife always knew just the right way to say things to make him feel lower than a snail, he thought to himself. "Regardless if it works or not; I shouldn't have put her back to sleep right away and then let her sleep the whole time you were out. You're right I was being selfish; I didn't want her to cry while you were gone so I thought it was best for her to be asleep. Now you're paying the price because you've been up with her and she's still wide awake. I'm sorry; I'll do better next time."

Johanna glanced at him. "Maybe I should take her to Valerie the next time I want to go out with my mother."

"I wouldn't blame you," he replied with a small smile.

"You sound almost hopeful," she replied.

"She makes me nervous; I'll feel better when she doesn't seem quite so fragile."

"Uh huh."

"I will," he said with conviction. "How about we slice the cake and have a little piece?"

"It's almost four in the morning!"

Jim shrugged. "I can eat anytime."

"Oh I know; but is cake at this time of night really a good idea?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me; it isn't like we can go to bed; Katie's still awake."

"You can go back to bed," she replied. "She'll be wanting another bottle before long; maybe she'll go to sleep after that."

"I'll stay up with you," he stated as he crossed the room to open the cupboard. He took down two small plates and then grabbed some silverware from the drawer.

"You're not really going to eat cake right now, are you?"

"Yes; if you're nice enough to bake it despite my bad behavior tonight, then the least I can do is go ahead and have a piece; you can have one too."

"No," Johanna said with a shake of her head. "No sweets for me this holiday season."

"You're eating this cake," Jim stated as he took the knife to it and cut two small pieces.

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"Jim," she sighed. "You know I haven't lost all the baby weight yet."

"Johanna, you worry more about that than you need to. So you have a few pounds left; its not a big deal. You look beautiful as always; in fact I like those few pounds…I think you needed them."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you do, sweetheart; I've always though that you could stand to gain a few pounds. I think you're beautiful and that should be all the matters."

"My jeans beg to differ."

"Buy new ones; and I know not all of them are tight now. You have some that still fit; I saw you trying them on."

"My favorite pair doesn't…neither does my favorite skirt."

"So get new favorites," he replied. "You heard what your mother said; you've had a baby, your body has changed, you have a couple miniscule pounds that only you seem able to see that you're driving yourself crazy over because of a pair of jeans. Let it go and eat the cake."

"Why do you think it's such a crime for me to want to look good to you!" she exclaimed.

"You do look good to me; you drive me crazy in every way possible…do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off of you? I'm counting down to your doctor's appointment because it's been a very long time….you know? Do you know how long it's been?"

"Yeah; I know how long it's been; do you know that every time I think about sex I think about having to push this baby out? You should eat your cake and tell your friend not to get overly excited because just because the doctor green lights it doesn't mean we're open for business the same day…because we're not."

"We're not?" he asked.

"We're not…Merry Christmas anyway."

"Suddenly this holiday season has gotten bleak," he quipped.

"My appointment isn't until the 30th anyway."

"So much for New Year's," he laughed.

"You've survived this long; you'll survive awhile longer."

"At least we hope."

Johanna crossed her arms over herself, her gaze moving away from him and focusing on the small space of table visible in front of Katie's baby seat. "It's just kind of the last thing on my mind lately," she murmured. "I feel…unattractive and tired and a lot of things I can't explain."

"Maybe you'll feel better in a few weeks," her husband replied.

She frowned as she glanced at him but his attention was on his cake. He didn't seem to fully grasp that her body had been through the wringer and her hormones were still unsettled. "I guess we'll see," she said flatly.

Her tone made him glance at her. "You know I'd never pressure you, Jo; if you're still not ready when your appointment comes and goes, we'll wait. It's fine."

She didn't feel like it was fine though but that might just be her and those damn hormones.

"Come on, sweetheart; take a bite of your cake," Jim said as he sunk a fork into the second piece of cake and held it out to her.

She sighed, allowing the desire for something sweet to win out as she accepted the bite he put to her lips. It was so good, she mused; she hadn't had much in the way of sweets for the last few weeks.

"It's good isn't it?" her husband asked.

"Yeah it is."

Jim slid the plate toward her. "Quit denying yourself the things you like and go back to your normal eating habits, Jo. It's not like you go overboard. Those few pounds really aren't worth worrying about."

Easy for him to say, she thought to herself as she accepted the fork; but she figured a piece of cake wouldn't hurt…in fact it was incredibly appealing.

"I'm so glad you made this," Jim remarked after swallowing a bite of his cake. "I would've understood if you hadn't this year but it wouldn't have seemed like Christmas without our Peppermint Bliss cake."

"That's true," Johanna said softly. "It's our tradition…it took eight tries to find it."

"I remember," he smiled. "Do you know what's funny?"

"What?"

"It took eight cakes to find the winner…and we got married eight months later in the eighth month on the eighteenth day of that month and I was twenty-eight," he stated.

"That is funny," she laughed; "Do you know what else?"

"What?"

"We were married for eighteen months when I got pregnant."

"And Katie was born while you're twenty-eight," he laughed.

Johanna nodded. "And our house number is 1218…eight must be our number."

"We should play the lottery," Jim said with a laugh.

"We should; if we won, we could pay off the house, fill Katie's college fund and retire early."

"I'm buying a ticket tomorrow," he replied as he swiped a small glob of icing off his cake with his finger and moved to give it to the baby.

"What are you doing?!" Johanna exclaimed as she smacked his hand away from the baby.

"I was going to give her a little taste; she keeps watching us, she wants some," he replied.

"She can't have that!"

"Why not? It's going to melt on her tongue," he replied.

"She's too little for icing, Jim."

"I don't see how it's going to hurt her, just a little taste."

"No! She's not old enough," Johanna told him.

"Fine," he muttered as he ate the icing on his finger. "Sorry, Katie; I tried."

Johanna side eyed her husband. "Have you given her anything when I'm not in the room or when I've run to the store?"

"Of course not," he said; his gaze on his plate.

"That doesn't sound convincing."

"I didn't feed her anything."

Johanna stared him down. "Look me in the eye and say that."

Jim met her eye and hesitated. "You know how she's been kind of licking her lips the past few days?"

"Yeah," she said with suspicion.

"Well, when you were in the shower the night before last, I had a candy cane and she kept looking at it and I could see her little tongue poking out so I put it against her tongue so she could have a taste."

"Oh my God!" Johanna exclaimed. "Are you serious?!"

"What? She's fine; it didn't hurt her."

"She is too little to be licking candy canes and cake icing!"

"I didn't think it was a big deal; there's nothing in it to hurt her," Jim replied.

His wife eyed him sternly. "You feed her nothing unless you ask me first; got it? And before you even crawl down this road; I don't give a damn what your mother has told you."

"Understood," he said with a nod before glancing to his daughter. "No more candy canes, Katie."

"For the first few months she only gets formula, Jim."

"Sorry," he replied. "I just didn't want to eat in front of her…and I figured being your daughter, she'd like candy canes…and she did; she liked it, but I only gave her a tiny little taste; I won't do it again, I promise."

"Okay," she said softly.

Jim gave her a small smile. "Do you think she'll like our Peppermint Bliss cake when she's old enough?"

Johanna smiled. "I think she almost has to…it's our family tradition…and when I make it next year; she'll be old enough for you to give her a taste of the icing."

"It's something to look forward to," her husband replied.

They finished their cake in silence and then Johanna glanced at the baby. "She's starting to look sleepy," she whispered.

"Isn't she going to want a bottle soon?" he murmured.

"Probably five minutes after we're upstairs."

Jim thought for a moment. "What if you go ahead and make it and we take it upstairs and put it on the bottle warmer on the nightstand. The cradle is still in our room, we can put her down in there and then when she gets up we'll be ready and maybe she'll get back to sleep faster."

"That's one of your better ides this week," Johanna replied.

He grinned. "I can make it even better."

"How?"

"You take Katie on upstairs and I'll make the bottle for you."

"Would you?"

"Sure, sweetheart. You made me cake, I can make a bottle for my girls."

Johanna smiled as she rose from her chair. "Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome," he said quietly as he watched her gently pick up their daughter and cradle her close, her head dipping to kiss Katie's forehead. He rose from his chair, his hand settling at her waist as he caught her lips in a soft kiss. "I love you, Jo."

"I love you too," she murmured.

His leaned his forehead against hers, their baby carefully cradled between them. "You know, we've had our peppermint bliss the last few years; but this year we have this extra special bliss, don't we?"

"Yes; and I wouldn't trade it for the world," Johanna replied softly. "We have all of our special things like our song and our cake…but now we're a family and it makes everything even better. It's our first Christmas with our baby…and I'm so excited to think of all the Christmases to come that we'll have with her."

He smiled. "All of our Christmases are going to be different and more special, that's for sure."

"Except for the cake," she said mischievously; "That will always remain the same."

Jim laughed quietly so he wouldn't disturb the baby who was finally falling asleep in her mother's arms. "Yes, Christmas shall always have Peppermint Bliss cake as you promised; but in case I never told you; thank you for this early Christmas gift," he said, his fingertip gently touching Katie's small hand. I've got everything I could want this year; my gorgeous wife still loves me and tolerates me; a beautiful, healthy baby girl, a nice home and our cake."

Johanna smiled, her hand caressing the line of his jaw. "I know it's a few days early, but Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he replied. "You go on now, go tuck Katie in and get in bed. I'll be up with her bottle."

Okay," she replied, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Jim watched her go and then moved across the kitchen to prepare Katie's bottle. While he waited for her formula to warm, he carefully put the cake in the cake holder but not before swiping up another glob of icing. He smiled to himself; they'd always have their special peppermint cake; but his favorite type of bliss would always be the kind he had with her and their baby.


End file.
